To Protect and Serve
by rosa lunae
Summary: Special Agent Nancy Drew of the FBI has been given her first op as a lead agent in the Witness Protection program. She's shocked to find that the men she's vowed to protect from the deadly Russian mob are none other than Frank and Joe Hardy.
1. The Meeting

_Disclaimer: Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys do not belong to me; this story gives me no profit but fun. No copyright infringement is intended._

I have no familiarity with the Witness Protection program, so I am going to take liberties with my use of it in this story. But I have done a little research. Therefore, please don't review and tell me that I am incorrect. Information that I have changed on their procedure and such have been altered by design to suit the purpose of this story.

That said, please read, enjoy, and review!

**To Protect and Serve: Prologue**

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Special Agent Nancy Drew, 28, was the youngest leadagent working in the Witness Protection branch of the FBI, but already, due to her stunning performance in training and her many smooth operations since being instated as an agent, she was made lead on her first assignment, the protection of two detectives in the NYPD who had stepped on too many toes of the Russian mob. She was flying in to Maine where they were being held in a safehouse in a snowy and deserted corner of the state.

She looked over the fax her superior had sent her just before taking off in the Bureau's jet. It was very succinct; as little information as possible on individuals taken into the Witness Protection program was put on paper for security reasons.

They had been working undercover, trying to infiltrate the Russian mob's drug activity but they'd been made, and a contract was on both their heads. The known but untouchable Russian mob boss in New York, Vladislav Krutin, had supposedly—according to CI's—made a personal statement about the two of them.

Agent Drew had a bit a familiarity with Krutin and his lackeys, which was one reason she'd been given the assignment. The crook's arm stretched farther than New York City—she'd helped to almost corner him on one of her earlier ops in Pittsburgh when he'd there sauntered there to elude the NYPD. She'd seen him face to face; Krutin was a ruthless, arrogant, and worst of all, genius crook with near unlimited resources. He'd also managed to get a shot off on her partner, hitting him in the arm, but Nancy knew that'd he'd been aiming for her.

Oh, yes, it was personal. Max shoved her out of the way, and the wound required eleven stitches, though it only actually grazed his arm. Not only had Krutin injured her partner, it was humiliating to need help or protection, being a woman in Bureau. She'd blamed her own carelessness and moped about darkly for days. Weeks.

But, Nancy reminded herself, she wasn't in the Organized Crime unit now. Witness protection. Her job was to keep Krutin from getting to these guys, and if that would grind his gears, she'd be glad to do it.

_Man, how did I get stuck on that night again, _Nancy wondered, taking another look at the paper in her lap. The detectives assigned to her had been given new aliases, which were written here. The Bureau gave her the aliases first so that she would be accustomed to thinking and call them by these names in order to help them with the transition.

**Jake Fitzgerald. 29. Brown hair. 6'1". Lean.**

Nancy rolled her eyes at the description. That was only about an eighth of the whole male population. It went on to describe some of skills for job finding purposes.

**Corey Barnes. 27. 6 foot. Muscular. Blond. **

More skills. And that was all the information they preferred to put on paper; even if Agent Drew was going to burn it later. The rest of the paper gave brief background on their situation, but Krutin's name had not been listed in case the paper was traced. The location to which they would flee was coded at the bottom of the page, along with the safehouse closest to it in case of emergency. She memorized all the information then tucked the paper away into her inside jacket pocket to be burnt later.

_They're my age,_ she noticed. _Hopefully they won't be big-headed cops that refuse to take orders from a woman their own age. For their own good and their families'._

The plane was setting down in Maine now. She pulled her jacket together and buttoned it, settling her navy scarf professionally. Nancy placed the earmuffs over her ears, then smoothed her reddish hair. Just for kicks, she slid on her small night vision goggles; they weren't sunglasses, but they were close. Besides, the stereotype might provide some lightness to the guys she was picking up.

She stood and turned to the pick up team. Despite the fact that it was three in the morning eastern time, all six team members were alert. "All right, everyone, we're getting ready to roll here. Just a few things before the pick up. The safehouse team has got surveillance covered, with several snipers settled around the house. When the plane door sets down, I want Johnson and Matthews out first, to survey the scene and to stand guard next to the steps. When the clear is given, I will approach the safehouse, to get the quick brief from the safehouse lead. Shuler and Anderson will follow and escort Jake Fitzgerald to the plane; Gates and Bombay are on Barnes. Let me remind you all that it will be pitch black out there. So far, it's not snowing yet, but report says it could start soon, so we need to get in and out as fast as possible. Clear?"

The plane was on the ground by now. The people under her command, two women and four men, nodded smartly. Some were older than her, but some were younger, but all respected her command.

A signal, like the striking of match in the window, sparked then died down instantly.

"Everyone in place," Nancy hissed. She settled behind, Johnson and Matthews at the plane door, feeling the tense efficiency in all their actions.

"On my call," she whispered. When the signal flashed a second time, she hissed "Go!"

Instantly, the plane door opened, and the steps unfurled, but her two Agents firearms drawn, leapt from the door, quickly scanned the surroundings, then took their spots at the base of the steps. Instantly, Nancy drew her own weapon, and took off down the steps, and ran towards the safehouse. She could feel her other four agents behind her, though the wind was loud enough to block out the sound of their breaths.

The instant she reached the door, it flew open, and a tall blonde hair man, in all black was shoved into the waiting arms of Agents Gates and Bombay, who, shielding him with their bodies, ran with him back to the plane. Not a second later, the brown haired man followed, willingly allowing the last two agents to grab his arms and sprint back to the plane with him, shielding his face from the cold with a scarf.

Seeing this, Special Agent Drew turned to the lead, an Agent Crawford. "All clear!" he yelled into her ear over the howl of the wind. "Nothing suspicious since they came here. In New York, they are listed as missing and presumed dead, which, by tomorrow, will be changed to officially dead. A joint memorial service is to be held and made public."

"He won't go for it!" Nancy shouted back.

"No, but it will stall him! Take care of them, Drew, they've had it rough!"

"You got it! You are your team make it back to base as soon as the area is secure!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

With that, Nancy turned, and sprinted back to the plane. As soon as she stepped on the first step, they began to rise. She ran up them, and stepped through the door just as it closed behind her.

"All clear, Jamison!" she yelled to the pilot. "Get us up and head due southwest. More details later."

The team was waiting. Jake and Corey, as she knew them were sitting together, their heads grimly bowed in effort to regain their warmth. Her agents, Nancy noticed, had kept their distance from the pair, as she instructed. She wanted to make the first contact, as she would be the one to have constant interaction with them.

With a friendly smile, she removed her goggles, and hat, revealing face. She took the seat facing them, and in a cheerful yet firm voice, she introduced herself.

"Mr. Fitzgerald. Mr. Barnes. Please allow me to introduce myself." They glanced at each other, but still shivering, had not removed their hats and scarves. But she got eye contact from them both.

"My name is Special Agent Drew. I am in charge of your protection from this moment on."

At that, the brown haired man's head snapped up. Nancy thought she recognized something in his eyes, but continued on.

"You are being relocated to a secure area, where you will assume new identities, new jobs, and new lives. I knew this is all happening very fast for you, but I know that you will be able to cope well considering your former positions. But understand now—you are never to call each other by your former names—you are Jake Fitzgerald and Corey Barnes. It will take time, but you can do it."

A snort out of the younger man didn't deter her. But the brown eyes burning into her head were a bit distracting.

"When we reach our destination, a secure line will be set up so you can talk very briefly to your families and let them know you are safe. You are not to give any clues to your location, such as the weather or the house, and you are not to talk about what you are doing. You may not tell them where you are. Beyond that, please take full advantages of these calls, as they can only be set up once a week at the very most."

The genuine and sincere urging in her voice got their attention.

"I know you two can handle this. We are assigned to protect you, but let your minds at ease for another team is working hard in your hometown to make it safe for you to return as soon as possible. But for now, you must put everything aside. Do not try to be heroes; do not hold on to your former lives. You must put all your effort into becoming another person so you can keep your families safe and yourselves alive. We can only help you as long as you cooperate. Will you?"

Both men nodded, still stunned.

"Then everything will go smoothly. I'll tell you more and more during the flight, but for now, we need to get to know each other as we will have to learn to trust and depend on and be honest with each other."

So, as they unbundled, Nancy began to fire off questions at them. They answered succinctly and obediently, but when their faces were fully revealed, Nancy felt her breath catch, as she was stunned into a short silence.

Though she covered it well, she recognized her two new charges, and they recognized her. But as it was better for the team of agents not to know their former identities so they could not be forced to give them up, she said nothing and betrayed nothing. Seeing her warninglook, neither did the two men.

But there was no doubt in Nancy's mind that she was now in charge of keeping Frank and Joe Hardy alive.


	2. En Route

_A brief reminder: for the majority of the story, Nancy will refer to Frank and Joe by their pseudonyms—a refresher: Frank is otherwise known as Jake Fitzgerald, and Joe is otherwise referred to as Corey Barnes. Their alternate identities are not brothers, but roommates. That said, please enjoy! –rosa lunae_

**To Protect and Serve**

**Chapter 1: Conflict of Interest**

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Though a flurry of emotions threatened to overwhelm Agent Drew, she remained completely calm. Her friendly smile did not widen as she wished it to, and she didn't leap into their arms like she would have done a decade ago. But, her mouth twitched and she shifted her weight, and the observant detectives noticed.

But, for their own safety, she couldn't reveal anything. "I understand that the two of you refused to be separated. That takes a little more work, but if it will help the adjustment, the FBI will be glad to provide. However, we must change both your appearances before we land. And I will brief you as to your new identities along the way. For now, you should know that we've established a secure apartment for the two of you at your destination. It will not be much, as we will not be providing your income, but we have, based on the skills listed, secured jobs for you both."

Thick windows dulled the hum of the plane's flight, and all of the windows were covered and blocked. None of the other Agents spoke.

"The rest of my team you will not interact with much—they will be working in security at the apartment complex, at your workplaces, and at the nearest Bureau headquarters. Two of them will be working directly from another apartment in the building, and I will be living in the apartment next door. You will be under constant surveillance, and very well protected. Six of the seven of us are officially under cover, including myself. Agent Shuler will be our liaison. He will be working full time at the FBI headquarters nearest us, and will provide us with all information regarding Krutin's activity in your hometown. We will try to keep you updated as much as possible, but after we land, the only agent you will see on a regular basis is myself. We don't want you to feel like prisoners or that you need a babysitter. You are both capable, intelligent, and logical detectives, and you know exactly what is at stake here. Do you not?"

"Yes. We do," Jake answered solemnly. He gazed unblinking at her face.

"I want you both to know that I am not protecting you simply because its my job, or because I want to keep you alive as witness against Krutin. You are now more to me than that."

They both nodded appreciatively, catching her double meaning. "I am on your side. And you should know that I was put on this case because I've dealt with Krutin before. In fact, while on this flight, I too will be changing my appearance, as he knows my face as well. But do not be uneasy; my team and I are the best of the best."

Though both men seemed fascinated with new piece of information and bursting with questions in general, they looked like hell.

"I will explain thoroughly later. For now, I urge you both to get some sleep. We have a long flight ahead of us."

"Corey" seemed very receptive to the idea. In fact, he had dozed off some during her lectures. She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but resisted. Jake, on the other hand, looked ready to explode with questions; he kept eyeing the scar she had on the left side of her face, trailing from the center of her forehead, brushing the outer tip of her eyebrow, and stopping at her high cheekbone. It bothered him, Nancy realized. She only smiled at him, as she pulled out her laptop. "All will be explained in the morning."

With that, he too, succumbed to slumber.

Certainly, she would explain thoroughly. About the program. About the need for their cooperation. But what could she say about how her heart fluttered at seeing them, especially "Jake"? What could she say about the truth about her meeting with Krutin? The rest of it?

She wasn't even forward with herself on that subject. She remembered her partner taking a bullet meant for her; she remembered watching him getting the stitches in the hospital without even blinking as the needle went in and out. She even remembered the circumstances surrounding the new distinguishing mark on her face. But that wasn't the only thing that had happened that night. Not by a long shot. But she had managed to dissociate so completely that she hardly remembered it at all when thinking of Krutin. Not on the surface. But deep within her, in the darkest place, it festered.

But with a glance at Jake and Corey, her new charges, she shoved the thoughts and the self-loathing and the vicious desire for revenge from her mind. From now on, she would protect them. She would make up for her mistakes. Through them… she might be atoned. With this thought in mind and no other, she took a blanket from the overhead compartment and draped it over both of them, trying to keep her eyes from lingering on Jake's face.

With that taken care of, Nancy began to type furiously into her computer as she searched the Bureau's databases.

_Can anyone say conflict of interest? Anyone? Even a prosecutor would crucify me on the stand if they knew that I remained lead on assignment to protect two of my old friends from high school! _God forbid the ass in a five thousand dollar suit that Krutin was sure to hire if they were able to catch him as they planned. _Man._ She sighed, and caught her head in her hands. _You're taking a big risk here, Drew. Word of this gets out, and you could blow the case. _But she looked around at the agents under her command. She was personally acquainted with all of them, and all of them were familiar with her reputation and respected it. She was sure they wouldn't turn her in if it got out.

_But it won't,_ she decided. _I won't put my team in the position to commit perjury. They can't lie or be forced to reveal something they don't know, just like Jake and Corey's real names. Or even the fact that they're brothers. It will fall on me._

This didn't bother her. Already, she was used to taking the rap for mistakes, both hers and others. The mark on her face wasn't the only scar she carried. She stood, with a sigh, and walked up the aisle to the cockpit. She knocked four times, then let herself in.

"How's the air, Jamison?" she asked, sliding in to the co-pilot's seat. But on a plane this small, a co-pilot wasn't necessary.

"Looks good, Drew. Where're we headed?"

"Set a course for Phoenix. There's a private airstrip outside the city owned by the Bureau… the Basset strip, I think."

He nodded, his long brown hair bouncing. "I know it."

"Instead of landing in the airport, we'll travel into the city in rental cars waiting for us there. But we've set up the secure apartment in downtown Phoenix."

"Really? We're not going to a safehouse first?"

Nancy shook her head vehemently. "Even I hate those things. Besides, Jake and Corey have had their share of safehouses. Plus, I've learned over the years that sometimes the best place to hide is in huge city where you can blend into the other faces. In the suburbs or rural areas, there are less people, fewer faces to cloud the puzzle."

Jamison nodded absently, his eyes focused on the sky, his hands making tiny adjustments unconsciously.

"Let me know if you need a breather. It's a long way to Arizona. And as for breathers, I insist that you take one."

As an emergency precaution—and, secretly, for the fulfillment of an old dream of hers—Nancy had been trained by the FBI in flight. She had a private pilot's license.

"Will do, ma'am."

Agent Drew took her leave from the cockpit, and stepped back into the aisle of the small craft. She surveyed the scene as she was trained to. Her agents were huddled in the back of the craft, going over their tasks as quietly as they could. She smiled dryly as she approached.

"There will be plenty of time for that, guys. In fact, we're going to be in the air for 5 or 6 hours."

They all looked as if they wanted to groan, but didn't. "We're en route to Phoenix, Arizona, truth be told."

"Are you kidding me!" cried Agent "Andy" Anderson in a stage whisper. Her short, black hair framed her face, accentuating her almond eyes. "And I packed all these warm, heavy clothes for Maine!"

Nancy grinned. She saw Amelia Anderson as a strange mix of herself, Bess, and George. She was feisty, dramatic, with a sharp mind for detail, and only a year and a half younger. She had a knack for catching the things everyone else missed, along with the talent for making the most boring stakeout amusing without compromising their work. Despite her age and tendency to exaggerate, Nancy had no doubt of Andy's abilities to lead a group. "Well, Andy, I never said we were staying in Maine, did I?" she told the younger woman good naturedly.

"I don't think you did, Drew," Agent Griffin "Bomb" Bombay said snidely, leering playfully at Anderson, his shaggy blond hair flopping over one eye. He leaned back in the plane seat, one ankle resting on one knee, arms crossed. Nancy had been a bit doubtful about letting the headstrong young man on their op, but he was a technological genius. The man could hack his way into Fort Knox. "But we all know about Agent Amelia Bedelia's tendency to jump to conclusions."

"Hah!" Agent Samuel "Go-Go" Gates huffed, pointing vehemently at his coworker. "You're one to talk, Bomb! You've yet to stop hitting on Andy despite the many times she's rejected you." Go-Go was in his mid thirties, and his sense of humor was blunt and bit scathing at times, but he was beyond loyal. And he didn't have the name Go-Go for nothing. He was a master of several forms of martial arts, and his lean, toned form made him the fastest sprinter in the Bureau… not to mention his shocking IQ. He picked up his nickname during a friendly FBI sparring match, when the crowd didn't know his name, so they changed "Go! Go! Go!" and, sadly, it stuck. He won the match.

"Geez, lay off, Gates!" Agent Rachel "Ray" Matthews scolded. She was 40 and single, as she'd dedicated all of her life to the FBI. She was a trained forensic psychiatrist, who specialized in profiling criminals. She was still currently working on her full, written profile of Vladislav Krutin to publish through the law enforcement branches of America. Her braided dark hair was developing streaks of silver, which was actually attractive against her ebony skin.

"For real, Go-Go!" Bomb joined in, amused. "We can't all be happily married to our high school sweethearts."

"_Bomb_." Agent Reed "Pop" Shuler, the most experienced and decorated agent on their team—not to mention, Nancy's unofficial mentor—who specialized quite somberly and efficiently in information trafficking, sent his colleague a warning glare, checking Nancy's reaction from the corner of his wrinkled eye. As an older agent, he'd quickly acquired the nickname; though he was not amused by most things, he put up with it tolerably well. Now, his fatherly gaze was alternating sending the young man a scathing glare and Nancy a concerned gaze.

Nancy only sighed, the smile draining from her face. Her clear eyes took on a darker hue. "It's okay, Reed. It's true, after all." She turned away, and took a seat across the aisle and several rows behind Frank and Joe… no, she corrected herself, Jake and Corey.

"Try to get some sleep guys. We can go over assignments when we're closer than three hours from the city. The jet lag will be killer."

She could hear Shuler and Matthews chiding Bomb for the remark, but she blocked it out, along with the memories.

Just feet away, Frank Hardy sat awake, his mind whirling. First, Krutin. Then, Witness Protection. Then, Nancy as their protector! He thought he couldn't handle any more shocks, but he'd overheard… everything. What could she mean?

_I bet Ned dumped her because she neglected him for cases_, Frank thought angrily. But, of course, he didn't know. After high school, they'd seen each other only a few times in college, and then completely gone their separate ways.

But whatever had happened with Ned, Nancy was not unchanged. She carried a distinctive hardness in her eyes, a hidden burden on her shoulders. Even despite the briefness of their meeting before takeoff, Frank noticed it immediately. Even if the fire in her eyes blazed all the brighter, the flames were definitely several shades darker.

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_That's it for now! I'm on a roll! Please review!_

_-rosa lunae_


	3. The Plane Lands

**To Protect and Serve**

_Thank you, everyone, for your kind and very helpful reviews of the last two chapters. I'm very excited about this story—maybe excited enough to postpone updating my other two projects, _Law and Order SVU _stories_, _in order to catch this one up. At that point, I will resume updating the three of them one-by-one._

_I'm glad you all weren't totally bored or averted by Nancy's team of agents. I tried to give you a glimpse of their characters here at the beginning since they will be very minor players after the plane lands, so to speak._

_One more thing: don't expect all your questions to be answered at once… what fun would that be? ;-)_

_-rosa lunae_

Chapter Two: The Plane is Landing

Frank Hardy, or, as he was now resigned to introduce himself, Jake Fitzgerald, regarded the lead agent out of the corner of his eye, his mind swirling with unanswered inquiries.

He had almost dozed off when she'd left to speak with the pilot, but when her finger brushed his skin as she draped the blanket over his shivering body, he was instantly wide awake.

As Nancy poured all his focus into the document she was typing—an initial pick-up report, he guessed—he watched her. His brother's soft, breathy snores were almost a comfort on his frayed nerves.

The scar on her face and the tension surrounding her past with Ned bothered him immensely. Enough even that, for a moment, he forgot about why he and his brother were on the FBI jet in the first place. Could the mark and her old beau be linked?

_No_. That was irrational. Ned, even when considering his tendency towards impulsive envy, had always loved Nancy. Frank couldn't remember ever even hearing the young man raise his voice to her. _Though he often took pleasure in raising it to me,_ Frank thought wryly.

Well, Ned would never purposefully harm Nancy, physically or otherwise.

The likely answer to Frank's question, he presumed, was a rough end to the relationship. Ned Nickerson had always objected, if gently at first, to being Nancy's second love; he probably never accepted it.

But could a nasty break-up with her childhood sweetheart turn Nancy Drew into the unblinking and softly intense woman before him?

_If so, why didn't she ever tell me? _Frank agonized internally. _And why didn't she acknowledge that she knew us?_ He hadn't even known that, after college, she'd become a government operative. She'd majored in Criminology, like himself, but they hardly spoke of the future when they met as those times they were often kept busy with their cases. He wasn't sure, but he thought he remembered that she minored in foreign languages.

Frank, even if he had no control over the situation, trusted Nancy's instincts entirely, just like he always had. If she thought it best that no one knew that they were old friends, than it was best. She was still typing, though, he noticed, she often looked up subtly to survey her surroundings.

The thin, white line on her skin was still a bit disturbing to him—after all, he hated knowing that she'd been hurt, and he hadn't been there for her—but, yet, he also found it strangely exotic and even pretty. It was hardly visible now, so a sizable amount of time must have passed since she acquired the mark. But her typing fingers and taut lips gave no answer to that.

_Work-related, no doubt, _he thought to himself, feeling an old anger flare up as he imagined it.

So, old Vlad Krutin was a mutual acquaintance. And Agent Drew had encountered him. _There's a story, there, too,_ he realized grimly, but before he could think on it further, he accidentally drifted off into a troubled doze, dreaming fruitlessly of sunnier days, maybe even the ones in Egypt. When he would wake up, hours later, he wouldn't be sure.

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When Nancy had sent her coded report through the Bureau's secure connection, she closed her laptop. Both the Hardy boys… men were fast asleep, exhaustion haunting their features. Nancy studied them. Though she wasn't familiar with their history since college, she noticed with relief that they were unharmed, even despite that reputed close call with Krutin. No scars. No casts. No bruises. Interesting.

She longed to know the story behind that particular occurrence, but she did not want her team to know any more than they needed to. If caught, Krutin was likely to use deplorable methods of interrogation—anyone was liable to crack in those circumstances. So, even though she had no plans of letting Krutin anywhere near her agents, she wanted them to know only what they had to. Besides, they were trained to follow orders—to protect without question. They'd taken a vow.

_Then again_, Nancy thought, _so did I._

Nancy had not been unaware of Frank watching her; she could tell immediately when he woke up from his shallow sleep by the movement of his pupils under his eyelids. After all, it was too soon for him to be in REM sleep.

He was asleep now, no matter how he'd fought. And Joe, she noticed with a small grin, was snoring away. With a glance behind her, she saw that several of her agents, had dozed off as well. But not Bomb, she noticed with a sympathetic smile. He sat rod-straight, frowning guiltily, still troubled by his thoughtless comment. She stood, and walked soundlessly over.

"Look, Drew, I'm sor—,"

"Bomb!" she whispered, smiling kindly as she interrupted. "Relax! You and I both know I won't break. Now, go to sleep, and that's an order!"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered eagerly, his eyes lighting up with relief. Still smiling, he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes right there as she watched.

She watched him for a moment, then looked up. She saw Agent Shuler watching her, eyes gray with concern and understanding.

"I'm fine, Reed," she mouthed. But her smile was a sad one.

Satisfied that all those under her wing were comfortable, Nancy settled back into a chair directly across the narrow aisle from Jake and Corey. But, unlike the others, Agent Drew did not adjust her body in the seat, did not reach for a pillow, did not even lean the chair back. Even with her report sent and the arrangements at the landing site and apartment and workplaces made and finalized, she did not sleep.

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When Joe Hardy woke up, he saw on his watch that three hours had passed. Well, kind of. They were flying west, and therefore, going back several hours. He stretched and looked around; three of the six agents were sleeping—lucky number seven was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey!" Joe asked groggily, "Where's Drew?"

Frank was jerked from his doze by the mention of her name. He shook himself awake, sending a half-glare to his brother.

One of the agents, a young man around their age, answered. "She's flying the plane."

"What!"

Frank was suddenly wide awake.

"What is it, Jake?" an almost playful female voice said suddenly. "Don't think a woman can fly a plane?"

Frank turned to face the familiar voice, but his jaw dropped. Even if there was no mistaking her features, Nancy, since he'd fallen asleep, had cut her hair tomboyishly short, died it a dark brown, put on brown contacts, and now wore trendy, square-rimmed glasses with clear glass in place of actual lenses. She'd expertly hidden the tell-tale scar with makeup. Noticing his confusion, she laughed softly.

"What?" Her dyed eyebrows rose innocently. "Don't you like the new Agent Drew?"

Again, both men were speechless. It amused her, but she felt the need to keep the mood fairly grave… for now.

"As I said before, Krutin and his thugs know my face well. So I had to alter it a bit. Now that you two are awake, it's your turn."

"Oh, man!" Joe groaned as Nancy motioned the other female agents over. "What're you going to _do_ to me?"

Unfazed, Nancy continued. This time, her lips didn't even twitch. "Well, Corey, your lovely blond hair is unfortunately a dead giveaway. I'm going to give you a crew cut and then dye it black. I've also got some brown contacts for you."

Joe looked depressed, but Nancy continued. "I want you to look as rough and macho as possible, as I got you a job as a trainer at a small, locally-owned gym."

Before Joe's eyes could completely light up with the thoughts of spotting sexy women in tight workout clothes, Frank cut in innocently, desperate to see Nancy smile again. "So, Agent Drew, you're saying that you need him to look as little like himself as possible?"

Joe glared. "Hah. Funny, F… Jake. Real funny. Hah."

But, though it was a small victory, Agent Drew's lips turned up just slightly.

"Jake, I think your eyes are very distinctive. So I got you some green contacts and these—," she held up a pair of thick-rimmed, Peter Parker style glasses, "and thought we might give you red hair to finish."

"Whatever you need," he answered quietly.

"You will be working in the same shopping center as Corey, but in the hardware store next door to the gym. It's kind of a mini Best Buy—all the gadgets you can imagine. So, I needed the glasses to give you the techie, kind of bookish look."

Frank had no qualms about temporarily changing his appearance. In fact, all he really wanted to do at that moment was to a) reassure his parents, even if his father was likely to figure it out, and b) get off the plane and away from all the foreign sets of ears so he could really talk Nancy. He wanted to tell her about his… experience with Krutin.

He was stunned, then, when she led him to one of the bathrooms of the plane, a box of hair color in her hand.

In comparison to the size of the jet, the bathroom was a good size. Nancy put a chair under the sink, and directed him over. They were alone. Nancy turned on the faucet, and waited for it to get comfortably warm.

"So. _Agent_ Drew, huh?"

Nancy gave him a weary smile, a note of caution in her eyes. "You can call me Alice. After all, that's what my pseudonym is going to be when we land. Alice Casey. We might as well get used to it, huh?"

Frank's answer caught in his throat as Nancy lowered his head very gently into the water of the sink to rinse it. He felt his eyes flutter as she let her fingers run through his hair from root to tip. But he tried to hide it; after all, no matter how arousing it might be to have Nancy Drew shampooing his hair, there were more important matters at hand.

"Will… Corey and I be able to contact our parents?"

Nancy let the shampoo rinse out, and then, her hand at the base of his neck, let him sit up, draping a towel over his shoulders to catch the drips.

"Yes. When we reach the apartment complex, there will be a secure line set up. Although, I'm sure your father, considering his reputation, has already figured it out."

Despite his wet hair, Frank didn't shiver. If he'd had a collar shirt on, he would have loosened it.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Nancy looked confused for a moment, and she stopped mixing the color for a moment. "Oh, that's right, you were asleep. We're going to Phoenix. Very hot. Most unlike Maine," she said with a small laugh.

_Not that hot, _Frank thought, breathing steadily as to stop the fantasies. He had to concentrate on his words, since obviously Nancy still didn't want to talk openly.

"Do you think Krutin has made any design on our family?"

Nancy shook her head. "There's no report on it. Your people at the NYPD are keeping him fairly occupied. Your parents are both under constant police and FBI supervision. But, that's not his style anyway. The Russian mob has no interest in those who haven't had an interest in them. And your father has been instructed not to investigate in any way."

As Nancy put on surgical gloves and gently rubbed Vaseline around his hairline without touching the roots, he realized that she'd probably done this to lots of other people put in Witness Protection.

As she was concentrating with the dye, Frank decided he would have to carry the conversation.

"How long do you think J—Corey and I will be in this program?"

Nancy's answer was impartial, but he could hear the feeling underneath it. "We have people spend years upon years of their life in the program. In your case, there only two things that would end your stay: the death or arrest of Krutin or the dissolution of the Russians' contract on your heads. But, I will say, that the latter is fairly unlikely without the former."

Frank expected sympathy in her voice, but what he got was anger. Quiet, dark, frightening anger. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it fell away.

"But, if it makes you feel any better, he's got it in for me, too. I almost caught him."

"That makes two of us," Frank muttered. "Wait. Was that… were… that thing in Pittsburgh—was that you?"

She didn't answer for over 10 minutes as she finished coloring his hair. He was quiet, waiting, as she filled the sink with water, squirted some lemon juice in it, and gently lowered his head in and rinsed it. Again, her fingers in his hair were quite distracting, but he was too focused on his question. It took only three minutes to dry his hair. She brushed it, trying to make it appear thicker, then adjusted the mirror over the sink so he could see himself. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at her, meeting the eyes of her reflection. She looked away.

"Yes," she said quietly. "It was me."

They were both startled by a sudden pounding on the door connecting to the other bathroom. "Drew, we need your help," Gates called through the flimsy door. "Corey here is freaking out about his new haircut."

Nancy shook herself back into reality, and handed Frank the contacts and the glasses. "Here," she said quietly. "I better go check on Corey."

Just like that, she was gone, leaving Frank stunned and trembling. Hardly knowing what to think, he donned his new contacts and glasses and surveyed his reflection in the mirror. Instead of noticing how very different his appearance was, he could only help but stare at his face and wonder at the confusion on his features.

_The details of the FBI's encounter with Krutin were called classified in the news, _Frank remembered solemnly. _Maybe she feels guilty for not catching him. I can't think of any other reason why the subject would bother her so much._

When he came out of the bathroom, he almost laughed at his brother. Joe now had a black crew cut and brown eyes, but he was whimpering at the mirror like a schoolgirl who had to chop of her hair because a boy spit gum in it.

And Nancy was consoling him as one might console the schoolgirl.

"Honey, it will grow back, and it will grow back blonde. Don't worry!"

"Aw, man…"

At this point, one of the other agents, a young Asian woman approached Joe, a playful grin on her lips. "Well, Corey, _I_ think it's hot."

Frank's eyebrows shot up, and he snickered as Joe's whole expression changed. As Joe launched himself into conversation with the other agent, Frank saw Nancy mouth "thanks" to the woman. As she approached Frank again, she patted another agent on the shoulder, as he was pouting in Joe and the Asian girl's direction.

"Jake, _Corey,_ I think this is a good time to introduce you both to the rest of the team. You won't see them much, as it's their job to be invisible, but you'll probably still get to know them."

She motioned to them one by one.

"This is Agent Anderson." The woman next to Joe waved.

"Agent Bombay." The pouty young man had the propriety to uncross his arms and wave.

"Agent Shuler." The oldest male agent stepped forward to shake both their hands.

"Agent Gates." The tall, lean man gave a smart wave.

"Agent Matthews." The older African-American woman on the team nodded in their direction.

"And Agent Johnson." Agent Jose "JJ" Johnson appeared to be at least half-Hispanic. He was short but muscularly built. He gave a gallant bow to the Hardy men.

"Agent Jamison is flying the plane, but he won't be sticking around." Nancy continued. "All right, I want all of you to go over your assignments and report to me if you have any questions. Also, try to begin calling yourselves by your aliases, as you're all going undercover. And the first person to call me 'Drew' again has to pay for my pizza tonight. From now on, it's Alice Casey. Jamison says we'll land in Phoenix in less than an hour, so get to work."

They dispersed, and Nancy led Frank and Joe to another end of the plane. She motioned for them both to sit down. She sat on her knees on the seat in front of them, leaning over it so she could see their faces.

"I need you both to understand something. I know that you were detectives in the NYPD, and I know, I really do, how hard this is going to be for you. When we land in Phoenix, you aren't going undercover so you can continue your investigation. You are changing your names and appearances so you can stay alive. You aren't going to try and aid the FBI, but you are going to become a new person with a new, normal life that you will live day by day by day. From today on, until you are released from Witness Protection or you leave it on your own knowing the risks, you are _civilians_, and my job is to protect you at any and all costs, and to do so, I must expect that you will listen to my instructions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," they both said, too startled by the passion and authority in her speech to protest.

Nancy's expression softened. "I can only help you as much as you let me. So, even if at times I may tell you what to do, I am essentially at your service. So, when we land, a rental car will be waiting, and we will go to our apartments, which will have been scanned for bugs already. The other agents will go to their posts, you will be able to contact your parents over a secure line, and then, the three of us will order pizza and then, go to sleep, to begin your new lives tomorrow.

"Our alternate identities are all old college buddies. The two of you were roommates then, so you chose to be so now. And I, Alice, am your mutual friend. So, since our aliases are such good pals, I think it's only effective if we are as well. What do you think?" An understanding sparkle now brightened her eyes.

"Sounds good to me," Joe said, fully recovered from her speech. "Especially the pizza part."

"Ditto," was all Frank could manage.

"Good. When we get to the pizza part, we'll be able to talk freely, because, I assure you, the FBI won't bug your apartment, even if several of the rooms have video feeds."

Nancy glanced out the window, and saw the airstrip a ways ahead of them. She turned back to them, serious again.

"Get ready Jake Fitzgerald and Corey Barnes. The plane is landing."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	4. Wonderland

**To Protect and Serve**

Thanks for the great feedback on the story so far! This story has returned such a warm, excited reception, and the more you guys enjoy it and let me know, the more excited I become about getting the next chapter up! So keep that feedback coming! Here's the next chapter!

BTW, an update schedule for all of my stories, including this one, has been posted in my profile. So, hopefully, if you guys nag me enough, I can stick to the schedule!

Enjoy!

_Chapter Three: Wonderland_

Joe Hardy sat in the back of the rental car with his brother.

_Jake,_ he thought, trying to get it in his head. He looked ahead at Nancy who was driving the car, eyes ever alert.

_Alice._

Joe stared out the windows of the sturdy little sedan, regarding Phoenix's roads which may have been home to a lone car or two, had he noticed.

_Wonderland._ He smiled ruefully to himself.

He tried not to note the SUV with two more agents following them; Anderson and Johnson, he believed. But no matter. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. _Just for a minute, _he thought, closing his eyes…

_Instantly, gunfire erupted in his mind, and in swirls of red and black and blue and white, Frank fell to the floor and Krutin's cold smile and then Nancy Drew's sad, furious scarred eye…_

Joe's eyes snapped open again. Frank, sitting up straight next to him sent him a concerned and understanding glance, but then quickly turned his brown eyes forward again. Joe, shaking off the nightmare, watched his brother carefully, the hum of the old engine the only sound in the car.

Frank was flexing his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fist; his eyes were on Nancy.

Joe almost smirked, but his ears were still ringing from the gunshots in his dreams. Frank was already falling in love with their protector.

Again.

_Well._ Joe leaned back in the car seat, trying to get comfortable and stop his stupid trembling. Frank had no thoughts of Callie to stay his hands this time around. But personally, Joe wasn't sure he was fond of his lovesick brother distracting this armed, intense FBI operative while she was in charge of keeping the alive. That is, if it was possible for her to _be_ distracted.

The car came to a stop. Nancy touched her ear and muttered into her shoulder, then stepped out of the car, surveying the scene silently for a full two minutes. Then, she touched her ear again—it was a subtle gesture, almost as if she were simply scratching an itch or adjusting her hair—and then knocked on their window. Joe and Frank stepped out cautiously, and Frank came around the other car to stand next to her.

"Welcome home, guys."

Her smile was suddenly cheery and hopeful, but Frank didn't miss the sadness and alertness that remained.

"The others are already here," she said softly. "Everything is cool. But try to keep quiet in the hallway anyway."

"Why?" Joe asked blankly.

Nancy grinned. "Because here in Phoenix, it's almost one o'clock in the morning."

"Oh."

Nancy led the way. They had no bags to carry, no slip of paper with their apartment numbers scrawled across it. They checked in at the front desk, where a man in a security guard uniform was waiting—Frank was somewhat surprised to see that the guard was none other than Agent Gates. He didn't give any sign of recognition, of course, but gave them their keys and directions, before settling back in his chair in front of the video monitors and alarm system controls.

Nancy led them to room 202, and tossed a key to Joe and handed the other to Frank; the tips of her fingers brushed his palm as she deposited it, and Joe thought he saw a spark, but it faded so fast back into her pupils that he doubted it later.

She stood by the door, waiting, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Finally, Joe got the picture and used his key to open the door and step in. As they closed it back again, Nancy began to speak.

"I'm next door in apartment 201. I have a key to your room and I'll give you a key to mine in case of emergencies."

She smiled as Frank and Joe noticed the banner hanging from the ceiling, proclaiming, "Welcome Home, Jake and Corey!" The room was messy, just like a bachelor pad would be. There were clothes in the closets, sheets on the beds, posters of cars and swimsuit models on the wall. Joe actually grinned.

"We were on vacation in California," she provided helpfully, leading them into the kitchen where two steaming boxes from Domino's awaited. The kitchen was fully furnished, complete with a pile of newly dirtied dishes in the sink.

"You can thank the others for that one," Nancy said dryly. "Bomb said it would aid in the overall ambience of the apartment."

She took a seat at the kitchen table, next to the pizza, after retrieving the cordless phone from the wall.

"A secure line has been set up for you to contact your parents. Unfortunately, there are some guidelines. Stay on the phone no longer than ten minutes. Give them no location clues, no names, no references to time. Basically, you're just calling to reassure them that you're alive and safe—they need that from you, especially since they already suspect. But remember, to everyone else, the two of you are officially declared missing, presumed dead. And if you hear another click after the first one, hang up instantly."

The call was short. Fenton Hardy, though worried, knew it was risky staying on the line with his sons—he let the boys spend most of the ten minutes reassuring their mother. At the end of the call, he advised them to lay low, said that he loved them, then hung up.

After that, while they ate, Nancy gave them both non-traceable cell phones. "This is for emergencies only. Never call anyone from your hometown; we need everyone except your parents to truly believe that the two of you died. These are basically so the three of us can keep in touch. My number is speed dial number 1. Corey, Jake is your speed dial number 2, and vice versa. My agents numbers are speed dial 3 through 8. And there's always 911 if there's a serious medical emergency. Speaking of which, you both have wallets in your room with your new ID's and such."

She also gave them both watches with homing beacons inside of them. "Look, if you put the watch's hands on 10:10, the face pops open—," she demonstrated, "—and this is a panic button. Press it if you think you've been identified or if you're in serious trouble, and then I, my team, and every computer in the FBI will be alerted instantly, including your location."

"But anyway," Nancy said, leaning back in her chair, grabbing a slice of pepperoni as her face relaxed into a smile, "enough of all that. It's so great to see you both!" Her now brown eyes sparkled, the first real brightness Frank had seen in them since he boarded the plane. "I'd hug you both, but my team might ask some questions."

She laughed then, a light, scratchy sound that lifted their spirits, even if it sounded as if she was out of practice.

Joe was staring blankly, but Frank was completely and uselessly enamored. Nancy noticed Joe's gaze first, and explained, "I didn't tell them." She crossed her arms, the familiar seriousness returning to her steely gaze. "They can't be forced to tell what they don't know."

Frank nodded, admiringly. Nancy was dead serious about their safety—he found that comforting, even if it was a little rough on his male ego.

"So you're a Fed!" Joe exclaimed, pointing a mock accusing finger. "You guys annoy the heck out of us all the time."

Nancy smiled innocently, spreading her hands. "Speaking of which," she said, through a bite of pizza, "tell me about how you two met up with my old pal, Vlad."

Joe opened his mouth, but paused, looking around cautiously. Nancy gave him a reassuring nod—the apartment had already been checked, so it was safe.

"We were following the coke trail off a stiff in one of our cases," Joe began quietly, still looking around. "A dead cop who got too close to something. We wanted to find out what—if the drugs were the only thing.

"We went undercover, and traced his death to the Russian mob. We did them a few minor favors, put up a convincing act, and they trusted us. As we slowly gathered evidence and information linking Krutin to the dead cop, our department planned this huge bust on his hideout."

Frank took up the story. "On the day of the raid, we were reporting to Krutin himself, and Joe's bug backfired, and the big man heard the feedback. We were forced to identify ourselves, and that's when the shots came. The whole building was racked with automatic fire, but we escaped with the help of the Bureau, who had an inside guy following Krutin.

"Everyone back home believes we were killed either in the shootout or in the fire afterwards. Krutin had the building torched when he couldn't find us. The fire made sure that we could be pronounced missing but dead since no bodies would have remained."

Nancy now looked deeply concerned and troubled. Frank was again almost nervous when he saw the suppressed anger pooling behind her pupils. He was relieved it wasn't directed at him.

"You are lucky to be alive. Even luckier to be unharmed."

_Ask about the scar!_ Frank's mind screamed, but Joe destroyed the opportunity.

"We're not lucky, Al. We're just that good." With this and a brief touch on her arm, Joe retreated to his bedroom, giving his brother a cautioning glance that Nancy missed.

Nancy chuckled quietly at Joe's remark, eyes untouched.

_I have to know._

"What about you, Alice? What happened in Pittsburgh?"

Nancy's smile froze, then faded into a frightening darkness. She sighed heavily. "There will be plenty of time for that. But for now, it is in fact 2:30 in the morning, and we all have work at 9 sharp!"

Nancy smiled weakly at Frank, reconciling. Her gaze was kind again. "I'll tell you all about it soon enough. But tonight, try to sleep. I'll be next door."

As she turned to leave, a large spider crawled across the floor.

Frank was amused at first when Nancy blanched and yanked at his arm, hissing, "Ugh, Jake, kill it!"

He did so, stepping on it surely.

She turned back to him with a shaky grin, but Frank's amusement faded when he could clearly see her racing pulse pounding in her pale throat.

"I hate those things," she whispered, laughing breathlessly.

Frank's hands trembled anxiously. The stress of the whole day was massive and heavy, and he wanted to comfort her somehow, but again, she withdrew into herself, away from the touch of his words.

"We all need sleep," she said. "I know it will be hard—," by the way she said it, Frank was sure she really did understand, "—but try to get some sleep. I'll be next door."

"Goodnight, Alice," Frank said quietly, longing to kiss her cheek even as she retreated. He stared at the door after he locked it behind her, fists clenching and relaxing again.


	5. Day 1 Part I

To Protect and Serve

**Chapter Four: Starting Over**

_It's always raining on nights like that one. She sat at her table, outside of the restaurant, almost like a normal woman enjoying a normal meal. The porch's roof was infallible, so she remained dry._

_The wait staff would wonder why a woman such as herself would come alone to one of the nicest restaurants in Pittsburgh, but they were much too busy on a Saturday night to concern themselves. In fact, they even missed the occasional touch she gave to her ear, or the muttering she did into her sleeve, a motion cleverly disguised by the use of a napkin on the corner of her lips._

_Of course, her waiter would notice a few things, as waiters did. She did eat. It was methodical, but she ate. He didn't know that shrimp tortellini was her favorite, though, since she certainly didn't show it._

_He also noticed that despite the wont of a wedding band and the deliciously alluring cut of her teal evening dress, she refused to pay him any attention. Her focus was constantly outward; her eyes scanned the streets in front of the porch, carefully watching the parking lots in front of the restaurant and in front of the upscale ethnic bar across the street. _

_The waiter was forced to conclude that she was waiting on someone, and thus, he henced to the other single female patrons in his area, hoping for better luck._

_The woman's sharp eyes narrowed as a black limo pulled into the parking lot of the Russian bar across the street. _The Кnetka_, it was called. Russian for "cage."_

_She touched her napkin to the corner of her mouth again, whispering into her sleeve. _

"_Is everyone ready?"_

_She received an affirmative._

_Her heart was racing with the excitement of the chase, and a pleasing blush flooded her cheeks though she was alone at her table._

_She knew he was in the limo. Everyone did. But because they didn't have any evidence to connect him to the trail of drugs and dead dealers, they couldn't touch him. Yet._

_Her partner, Max—short for Maxilov—was inside already. He'd been undercover for months and the mobsters trusted him. He was bugged for the first time tonight—before now, they couldn't risk it._

_The bar was surrounded by FBI operatives _in cognito_, and evidence was being gathered. Finally, they would have him. As soon as her analyst from the attorney general's office said they had enough, the warrant would be signed a few buildings over, and the op would be a go._

_The lady stood, dropped a large bill onto her table, and began to cross the street, conscious of every movement around her and very aware of the .38 strapped to her inner thigh, accessible through a slit in her gown._

_Krutin's door was opened for him. She'd never seen him before that night, but recognized him immediately. He was sharply dressed and his build was intimidating and powerful. When he saw her crossing the street, he locked eyes with her instantly, and as his eyes trailed down her neck and beyond, he grinned hungrily._

_She let a hand run through her fiery hair, giving a seductive smile, confidently continuing her approach towards him._

"_Well," Krutin murmured, his accent heavily Russian, refined. "What is an exquisite lady such as yourself doing alone on a beautiful night?"_

_Nancy was aware of her appearance—she looked classy, but her dress showed a pretty high percentage of her skin, including the accentuated curve of her cleavage. But it was a part of the plan; the only way she could get into the bar without suspicion. And hopefully her presence would distract Krutin and his thugs. So, her answer was soft, her eyes inviting._

"_Looking for a handsome man to take me home with him tonight."_

_Before he could offer his arm, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, aware of the clear view he had of her chest._

_He was aware, too, it seemed. "What is your name, _baboyka_?"_ _He let his free hand play in her hair._

"_Clarice," she replied, pulling close. "Is it true, what they say about you?" She laced the seduction in her tone with an obvious admiration._

"Da,_ every word, madam,"_ _he replied, pompously gallant, opening the door for her._

"_Drew. Evidence is good. The warrant is on the way. Stall Krutin for about five minutes, and then we're on."_

_As she moved to step into the bar, a voice from behind them rang out. And with a single word, the entire operation was blown._

"_NANCY!"_

Nancy shot up in bed, heart racing.

It took a moment for her to orient herself. She wasn't in Pittsburgh watching her life fall apart. No. She was in Phoenix. Protecting Frank and Joe Hardy.

_I haven't had a nightmare about that night in months...I wonder what could have triggered it. _Then she remembered the spider from last night, and sighed.

She glanced at the clock. It was around five in the morning. _Almost three hours,_ she thought dryly, throwing the covers off and hefting herself out of bed. _More than usual._

She showered quickly and dressed without thinking about it much, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn't recognize the woman there. She took unusual care in her makeup, being certain to conceal the scar outside of her eye. After she replaced her brown contacts, and then put on her glasses, she played around with her new short brown hair for a while, until she felt she looked reasonably attractive. Funny. She hadn't thought about her appearance in… well, a long time. It just didn't seem to matter, since Ned had left her…

Nancy shoved that thought away with vigor. _No time to wallow in the past_, she reminded herself. She checked the time. 6:23, the clock reported.

After she was ready, she started over, in a way. She placed a mike in her ear, and fixed the tiny radio into her sleeve. She also put on a watch like Frank and Joe's. She made sure her wallet had all her new identifications in it, then she opened the door to her closet again. She moved a section of clothes, revealing several television monitors, and another radio center.

Frank and Joe were still asleep.

She touched a button on the radio. "Casey to base."

"Base here."

"Hey, Andy. Have they been quiet all night?"

"Corey was out cold the instant he hit the bed. Jake didn't get to sleep until around 3:30."

"Thanks. I'm sure I don't need to ask, but I will—has the car been checked and the perimeter secured?"

"You bet, boss."

"Great. I'll be in touch. Over."

"Got it. Over and out."

Nancy locked up her apartment, checking every window and room twice before finally locking every lock on her front door; after this ritual was complete, she let herself in to Frank and Joe's place. She stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, listening. They were still sleeping silently as Anderson had reported; there wasn't a sound in the apartment.

Nancy toyed with the idea of doing the dishes—left in the sink by her agents— for them, but in the end, decided against it with a mischievous grin. She rather licked the image of the Hardy boys getting domestic.

Instead, she raided their fridge and cupboards and began to fix a generous spread—bacon, eggs, toast, English muffins, juice, and most importantly, coffee.

She began to hear movement in the bedrooms as the meal was finished the smell filled the apartment; she thought that they might not think to come out fully dressed. Not interested in making them feel uncomfortable on their first day as Corey and Jake, she stepped outside for several minutes, standing at the door almost like a Roman soldier.

It only took a moment. She heard a tired yelp of delight that she instantly recognized as Joe's.

"Hey, Al!" he yelled, poking his head out the door, "You can come in; I'm not naked!"

She smiled broadly and went back inside. At the table was a robed Joe tearing into the food. Nancy helped herself to an English muffin with a bit of jam, and poured herself a cup of coffee, watching the spectacle with amusement.

"Oh, man, Al. This is so good. Thanks a lot. I mean, this is great."

Nancy didn't bother with conversation—Joe only stopped eating for the few seconds it took to take a breath.

A door creaked loudly, and Frank entered, fully dressed with damp red hair curling heavily around his eyes, a feature Nancy found particularly endearing. His eyes widened at the sight of the rapidly disappearing food.

"Hey, Core! Whoa! Chill out, man, and leave some for me!"

It would be easy for her agents to underestimate Frank and Joe, Nancy realized, since the two men were playing around and bickering playfully already. But Nancy wasn't fooled; it was another case in a way to them, so they hadn't slipped up with their new names once but had adjusted almost instantly. They adjusted to their new life they same way they disabled a bomb—because they had to.

Nancy greeted him with a warm smile and nod, then stood. "Enjoy, guys. I'm going to finish getting ready for work."

She was dressed neatly and her make-up and hair were completely finished. But Frank and Joe didn't even bat an eye, though they knew what she meant. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

As she left, Frank sat down heavily at the table, his appetite suddenly minimal. Joe noticed, and slowed his ravage for a moment to ask with his mouth full, "What?"

Frank was still staring at the door. "Did she eat anything?"

"She ate most of an English muffin and drank half a cup of coffee. So what?"

"She used to love eating a hearty breakfast. And do you realize how early she must have gotten up to get completely ready and fix us breakfast? And do whatever else she had to do?"

"So she's a morning person who isn't much for breakfast."

"She's changed, Core."

"It's been a decade, Jake."

Frank shook his head, frustrated. "She hasn't even mentioned Ne—Nate. Maybe something happened between them?"

"Come on, Jake, you can't expect her to just spill her guts about her love life when we've just met again suddenly after so long! I mean, you haven't exactly given her a signed affidavit about… Cassie."

That was true. But honestly, there wasn't much to tell. When Frank went off to college, Callie stuck around Bayport to attend a community college and they simply drifted apart. They parted amicably over the phone; one thing they both wondered—why were they still together? They couldn't remember what had attracted them to each other in the first place and couldn't name a reason why they were still together except that they always had been. After they parted, Frank didn't feel much different than he had before. He didn't think of Callie with bitterness, but a chaste fondness.

Before the FBI and Nancy Drew had whisked him away to Phoenix he had spoken to Callie often, like brother and sister. She was engaged now, and he probably wouldn't get to see her wedding.

But now, Nancy was back. Right under his nose, and strangely fierce and broken like he'd never seen in anyone. Especially her. And he couldn't deny the attraction he'd always felt to her hadn't faded with time, and on top of that, there was a new feeling… this urge to nurture her, heal her of an affliction that he couldn't even recognize.

Certainly Frank had seen his share of the gruesome side of humanity as an NYPD detective. And probably Nancy had seen more as an FBI agent… but she had changed.

She was stronger, fiercer—she seemed almost invincible when he saw her on the plane. But there was something else—she was stoic, quiet, sad, and burdened, and when she'd seen the spider, she seemed like a scared, wounded, and vulnerable version of the 18-year-old girl he'd known.

She was an enigma, almost.

"Coming, Jake?"

Her voice shattered his thoughts. She held on to the doorframe with one hand and dangled halfway into the room, head cocked in waiting.

"Yeah."

On the ride over, Joe stared out the window most of the time as Nancy instructed them. He tried to find their FBI tail, for he was sure they had one, but this time, he couldn't isolate it. _They're good,_ he thought, appreciatively.

As she drove, Nancy gave them some directions to follow with their new lives and new jobs.

"Pay close attention to everyone around you. Your employers and coworkers have had background checks made through files they didn't even know they had. They're good. But be aware of any customers—including the ones with breasts, _Core_—paying you an unusual amount of attention. Not to say that they won't just be irrevocably attracted to your sexy bodies and lively minds, but be aware that the Robinson's—," that was the codeword for the Russian mob— "do have women on their payroll. But remember, I'm just teaching you to be overly cautious. We have no reason to suspect that anyone has any idea where you are or even if you're alive. So just enjoy yourselves, but stay awake, huh?"

"Yeah, we got it, Al," Joe answered eagerly, cracking his knuckles from the backseat. Though he was still disturbed by his new haircut, he was ready to tackle his new job as a personal trainer, and definitely ready to "spot" some babes.

Frank rolled his eyes, knowing exactly the thoughts churning through his brother's head. "You can count on us," he said to Nancy, trying to catch her eye. She avoided his gaze, and focused on the road.

"I'll occasionally come in and out of both stores, and you may see another agent every now and again. Don't acknowledge them unless you are suspicious of something. You can talk to me anytime, of course, since our alter-identities are roommates. As soon as we get out of the car, I'll just be another normal gal."

Frank wanted to laugh, but swallowed it. Nancy sensed his struggle and sent him an amused glance.

"A few codewords to know—if you feel you are in danger, the codeword is _dinner_. For example. Corey happens to be teaching a hot chick how to properly maneuver a piece of equipment and he happens to see a thug he recognizes from back home. One of my agents or myself will almost always be in earshot or close to it, so Corey were proceed to say to the hot chick, 'So how'd you like to go to _dinner_ with me?' That will alert me or my agent of the danger. Just an example.

"If you think you've been made—recognized by anyone, friend or foe—the codeword is _ocean. _So, if Corey felt his identity had been compromised, he might ask the hot girl, 'So, have you ever seen the ocean?' which, in Arizona, is a legitimate question. The rest will go from there.

"Don't ask me why the words are stupid. I don't make them up. But you would only have to use a codeword if my agents and myself weren't already aware of the threat, which is highly unlikely. Most likely, if there was danger or you'd been recognized, we'd know it before you."

Nancy turned into the shopping center. "Other than that, I trust your judgments. I probably don't have to tell you anything. Just don't do anything stupid and don't try to be a hero. And, that said—," she screeched to a stop, in front of their new workplaces and yelled, "have a good day, boys!"

"See ya later, Al!" Joe called back without even looking over his shoulder. He fairly jogged into the gym.

Frank paused, and rapped his knuckles on her window before she could drive off. She rolled it down; Frank leaned into the window, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. He desperately wanted to see Nancy smile for real and not for show.

"So what are you doing for lunch, Alice?"

Even though her reply was casual, Frank could clearly see the wall go up in her eyes. "Oh, I'll probably have to work through lunch."

She had averted her eyes and turned her head away. Frank shrugged off the sting of the rejection, keeping his smile intact. He caught the double-meaning in her words and saw the hardness return to her eyes.

"Bummer," he murmured. "Well, I'll see you tonight, then!" With a last touch of her arm, he turned around to walk towards his new life, feeling her gaze on his back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_See? I am alive!_

_So, you got a taste of what happened in Pittsburgh, but no juicy stuff yet. And, as you can see, and N/F action is not going to just fall into place. But I hope you'll review anyway! ;-)_

_-rosa lunae_


	6. Day 1 Part II

**To Protect and Serve**

_Hey, guys! 100 reviews after only five chapters is pretty cool! Thank you so much for all your support! I'm sorry about the delay, but I hit a brief block. And real life got in the way, huh? But hey, you should all be delighted to hear that I quit my part-time job! With the school term coming to an end, I'm swamped enough without work. But hey, you guys have license to be thrilled, as I'll have some more spare time to write! ;-)_

_Thanks again for your encouraging response to this story and my others! Here's the next chapter of _To Protect and Serve!

_-rosa lunae_

Chapter Five: A Favor

Joe lingered briefly at the door of the gym, white knuckles coiled around the handle.

_Ouch._ He didn't turn around, but he could hear the surprise and hurt in Frank's voice. He heard Nancy drive away, but he knew her agents were still guarding them. The thought was reassuring, if a little creepy.

He ventured a glance over his shoulder. Frank scuffed his foot against the pavement, muttered something his breath, then marched towards the tech store, fingers flexing.

Joe winced for his brother. That had to hurt. But those telltale flexing fingers said that Frank was more puzzled than pained. Joe could understand that; he was baffled, too.

But, in all reality, she could have been telling the truth! She probably did have work to do during lunch. She's an FBI agent for God's sake. In charge of protecting _them_ no less. Which meant having lunch with Frank could be considered… well, a shift. So why refuse?

_Man, this is weird._

Well, Nancy wasn't malicious. Or stupid. She was probably very aware that pursuing a relationship with one of her charges was a bit unacceptable. Then again… Frank hadn't exactly proposed. Besides, couldn't she just say she was watching out for him? Whatever. She was a Fed; she was sure to be busy. Still…

Something was up with her.

"Hey! You Barnes?"

Joe finally turned the handle on the door and walked in. "Yep, last time I checked!" he quipped, thinking that his brother might have laughed at that one.

"Great! I'm Chase—glad to meet you. I'll show you around."

After Joe had gotten a feel for the gym, been given a key and a locker, and a nametag, Chase, an extremely muscular guy with blonde hair that made Joe sigh, sat him down at the reception desk and advised him of the busiest times at the gym.

"The pre-work joggers have already left. They show up around 8 and stick around for about 30 minutes. It's pretty slow after that until around 11 when the pre-lunch crowd comes in. It's fairly slow from 11 to 1 then we get the post-lunch crowd. And around 2 until 8 classes are in session—we do yoga, kickboxing, aerobics, and body building. It's pretty busy on the floor while these are going on too. We need you to check the equipment while it's slow in here and then train with the people on the floor during the busy points. Some guys will only want a spotter—some will want advice. Some newbies—,"

"Hey! Where's the judo class meeting up!"

Joe turned in the direction of the voice by instinct; he recognized instantly one of Nancy's agents—Gates. The sprinter and martial artist. But he didn't nod or wink or do anything to acknowledge the agent. Instead, he called, "Second room on the right!" and pointed down the right side of the gym.

"Thanks!" Go-Go called with a noncommittal wave, without giving Joe a second glance. He admired that—the man's acting almost made him uncertain if he WAS Nancy's agent!

"Nice!" Chase said, appreciatively. "Way to jump on it, man. Anyway, some of the newbies will want you to show them how to work certain machines. And you can teach a class if you want. But we're glad to have you here though; we lost a trainer last week."

"What happened?" Joe asked, eyebrows shooting up. He could almost feel the old rush…

"Nothing exciting. He transferred to bigger gym."

"Oh." _Crap._ "What else do I need to know? I think I'm set."

"Yeah. I'm going to head to my morning body pump class. Keep an eye on the floor for me."

"No prob." Joe watched the guy leave—his shaggy, surfer-esque hair swayed with his steps. _God, I miss my hair._

Joe leaned back in his chair at the desk, propping his feet up next to the keyboard. The workout rooms where the classes took place actually had clear, soundproof walls. This meant that Agent Gates had a clear view of the whole gym. Joe allowed his eyes to pass over the agent's face as he observed the whole class.

Gates didn't seem to be watching him at all. Perhaps the Feds weren't as incompetent as they'd seemed back in New York. They'd come in and blundered a few of his own investigations… but then, none of them had been under Nancy Drew's command.

Joe pushed back from the desk, and swaggered to the floor. It was nearly empty—the pre-work crowd was gone. He crossed his arms, and scanned the machinery, looking for any kind of malfunction. But as he knelt to replace some misplaced barbells, he heard the bell on the front door ting against the glass.

He turned and watched as a lovely and leggy blonde in a bright yellow jogging suit entered the gym, eyeing the equipment with uncertainty.

Joe grinned. He grabbed one of the larger barbells, and pumped it casually as he approached her.

"Hi, I'm Corey. I'm the new trainer," he greeted smoothly, leaning against the door with one arm and pumping the weight with the other. "How can I help you?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Nancy drove away from the shopping center, leaving Frank and Joe in the protection of her capable agents. Bomb was covering Frank at the hardware store and Go-Go was keeping an eye on Joe at the gym. JJ was covering the parking lot and surrounding areas. They would rotate positions throughout the day, as was routine.

Andy was monitoring the radios at their base location which rested deep within the apartment complex. Ray was still working on her profile of Krutin at the local FBI headquarters, all in effort to predict his next move. Reed was also there, working to translate and decode intercepted information from the Russian mafia while keeping an eye on Frank and Joe's tracking devices.

Everyone had their assignments; Nancy was the overseer—she did whatever else was necessary and managed the workload of the others. She pretty much determined her own schedule.

Why, then, had she felt so compelled to refuse Frank's casual invitation to lunch?

_Duh, Nancy. _ She couldn't be involved. Well, no. She was already involved. But she couldn't get more _deeply_ involved. If she did, she would be obligated to recuse herself from the case. Still, she was probably bound to do so now. But there was no way Special Agent Nancy Drew would let _anyone_ else watch out for Frank and Joe Hardy. No way.

It was just lunch, though. She could have come in and told Bomb to take a break or something… but then, eating with Frank, even after so long, would definitely distract her from surveillance. And no one could afford for her to be distracted—_especially_ Frank.

Of course. It made perfect sense. She had blanched at the offer because of all the complications. Blame the job.

Nancy had blamed her job for past problems; it hadn't worked then either.

Instinctively, Nancy weaved around Phoenix to lose a tail she could hypothetically have picked up. She hadn't seen one, but it was procedure. She moved to pull back into the apartment complex.

The PC work stuff was a BS smokescreen, and she knew it. Frank's offer had made her feel vulnerable, and she hadn't been so since…

"Pop to Red. Red, do you read? Over."

"Red" was her own call name. It didn't seem so appropriate now, she realized as she caught her reflection in her side mirror. Still, she gleefully embraced the interruption.

"I hear you, Pop. What's up?"

Before he answered, she had already turned the car around.

XXXXX

When lunchtime came around at Greg's Gadgets, Frank almost hoped that Nancy might come in to give her agent a break; but his lunch hour came and went and all he witnessed was Bomb rotating off with JJ.

It hadn't been a straight up rejection, he reminded himself silently as he straightened up the phone aisle. And they weren't really in normal circumstances—odds are, she probably did have work to do. Work to do to keep him alive. But Frank wasn't convinced that that was her reason; it sounded like an excuse. But why she felt the need to find one—he wasn't sure about that one. But without a crime to solve, Frank was almost excited to have a little mystery on his hands.

Yet, the fact that the mystery was Nancy Drew was a bit of a damper.

"Hey, dude, where are your iPods?"

Frank looked up from the phone he was replacing, and smiled without missing a beat. "Right this way. And we just got a used Shuffle in, if you're interested. Pretty good shape, though."

XXXXXXX

Because her alter-ego as Alice Casey couldn't be seen near the FBI headquarters, Nancy had to go through a fairly complicated procedure to get there inconspicuously. Normally, she'd just wait for her agents to report to her in person, but Reed insisted that she see the information he'd intercepted in person.

There was a Burger King several blocks from headquarters. When Nancy came in, she ordered a Big Mac. Immediately, a guy in the back got a call on his cell phone, and walked out. When the cashier told Nancy that this was Burger King and they didn't sell Big Macs, Nancy pretended to get annoyed and marched out, to the back of the restaurant. The cell phone guy was waiting, talking into his phone, and after a moment, Nancy heard the car doors unlock. Nancy got in the back of the car, and lay on the back seat on her back until the car stopped.

When she got out, she was in the secure parking garage owned by the agency.

The driver opened the door for her.

"Agent Drew," he said, taking her hand in his own. "It's an honor."

Nancy smiled tightly, knowing that he wasn't looking into her eyes. He was looking _at_ them, trying to see where the scar should be, if not for her makeup. Obviously, her reputation preceded her. But, despite his obvious incapability to be subtle, he was being sincere, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

She waved off the compliment silently and asked to taken to Pop. He nodded; Nancy allowed the young agent to lead her to the room where Agent Shuler was holed up. Nancy thanked him smartly, effectively dismissing him.

"Reed?" She knocked on the door as she entered.

"Ah! Nancy." The older man looked up relief; the light brought out the silver in his salt and pepper hair. "Come here."

She meandered around his desk, instinctively surveying its contents. His keyboard was almost hidden by printouts and crumbled pieces of paper and a Russian to English dictionary. He picked up a printout—scribbled all over—and handed it to her.

"We intercepted this email from one of Krutin's known ISP's. It was encrypted, but I used Bomb's program to decode it. Here."

She read it silently, translating it in her mind.

"I translated the first part," Reed continued. "It makes no sense; it's probably coded somehow. There is one line that I can't translate though."

The part he'd translated was accurate, she noted. The message read: **Stay and light the darts. I will draw of a hot lemon. – Fred B. Croner**

"You're right. I'm sure it's coded somehow."

"I already dropped off a copy to the code breakers. They're running it through the computer."

Nancy read on the next part, a post script.

Держать ухо востро!

"Oh, I see. It's an idiom. It doesn't make sense when translated literally, but it means, 'Mind your step.' It's a Russian warning to be cautious." Nancy's eyes narrowed in concentration. "I'm not sure about the darts or the hot lemon, but this sounds like Krutin is telling some of his guys to stay behind in New York and to be careful. And if they're staying behind, he's moving. Somewhere. It could be a stretch, but maybe by lighting the darts, he means to distract the NYPD. I don't know what in god's name he's saying about a hot lemon, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Jake and Corey."

"Probably. I'll let you know what the code department says."

"He does use the word _hot_. And we are in Phoenix. Reed, you know how much I hate coincidences."

"Enough not to believe in them."

"You got it."

Nancy sat down in his chair, weighing the situation. It was obscure at best, but she wasn't going to gamble with Frank and Joe's safety, of that of her agents. Still, the only thing she could reasonable gather from the message so far was that Krutin was leaving New York and he was warning someone. So, she'd keep Frank and Joe on Level Three security as planned. If it was quiet for a satisfactory amount of time, she could take them down to Level 2—that meant they wouldn't have an agent following them 24/7—they'd rely only on the panic buttons and cell phones. But Nancy would have to feel very comfortable to lower them to 2.

_Three's good for now. I'll just tell everyone that we may have movement on Krutin and to be on guard for his mules._

"Nancy."

Nancy jerked, startled. Used to his desire to hear her thoughts, she automatically answered, "I was thinking that this isn't enough to move them or up security. We'll just keep them on Level Three."

"You know this email gives us next to nothing, right? No reason we should logically suspect their cover is compromised."

"I'm aware, Pop."

She rarely called him Pop to his face.

"So why are you harping on it? What's different about these two guys?"

She reacted to the question instantly, to keep her answer as natural and honest as possible—he'd know if she was lying. "I don't know. I guess it's their age. They're a lot like me. It sucks for them to be in the program at this point in their lives."

Reed shook his head at that; in that manner, perhaps Jake and Corey were more like Nancy than she realized. But her answer was candid; he was satisfied for present. So, he crossed his arms in effort to brace himself to the response he'd likely get to his next question.

"What Bomb said to you on the plane got to you."

"_We can't all be happily married to our high school sweethearts."_

Nancy's eyes flashed, annoyed. "I thought Ray was the shrink. Now you're putting me on the couch?"

"It got to you."

"Yes. A little. But still, you didn't have to go all grandfather on him; the kid didn't know."

"I do."

Nancy grinned. "Yeah. And it bugs the crap out of me sometimes." She looked at her watch. "I need to get back. Any reason I should bother Ray?"

"I wouldn't. Someone tried to take her some coffee, and she threatened to throw a chair at him."

"She's onto something then. She'll tell us when she knows."

"Right. Take care, Nancy."

"You got it."

XXXXXXXXXXX

At five, when Nancy arrived to pick up Frank and Joe from their jobs, she wasn't ready for her reaction. The instant they stepped out into view, she felt a strong desire to show them the message from Krutin Pop had intercepted. But no; she knew she couldn't encourage them—her job was to help them adjust to not being cops. But still, she missed bouncing ideas off of them.

Joe yelled "Shotgun" and ran to the car like a 12 year old, jumping into the front seat. There was no time for Nancy to feel awkward about Frank because Joe instantly distracted her. "So, Al. I have a question for you. I don't want to like overload you guys on the first night or anything, but is it, I don't know, doable for me to borrow the car and go on a date?"

Frank's eyes widened, but he still managed to roll them.

Nancy was silent for a moment, running the possibilities through her head. Frank could see her weighing combinations of agents and microphones and panic buttons in her eyes as they narrowed just slightly. After a moment, she shrugged.

"Sure, why not? What were you thinking, like a movie? That'd be pretty easy to arrange."

Joe grinned. "I was thinking about that new horror movie. You know how girls get all clingy at horror flicks."

Nancy coughed. "Ok, I don't need details. I'll send Gates, Anderson, and Bombay with you. Gates will brief you before you leave."

"Really?" Frank blurted. "Just like that?"

Nancy lifted an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror. "Sure. I'm not your mom, guys. I mean, Corey here will have to follow some basic rules, but nothing heinous. Am I making a risky assumption here?"

"No, no, Al. I'll be a good boy, I promise."

Nancy called Gates and let him know about the plan. They pulled up to the apartment complex, and Frank and Joe went into their apartment. Nancy was still on the phone with another agent. While Joe was getting ready and talking with Agent Gates on his cell phone, Frank was psyching himself up as well.

Joe hung up the phone, and checked himself in the mirror. "Sexy as usual."

"So what did he say?"

"He said that Anderson and Bombay will go separately as another couple to keep an eye out in the theatre and he'll be keeping an eye on the perimeter. He says we'll go in late after the lights have gone out, then head out the side door. The girl is so ditzy, she won't suspect a thing."

Frank smirked. "Then why rush to a movie with her when you just met her, Casanova?"

"Because I want to see this movie. Besides, I'm doing you a favor. Do with it what you will."

With that, Joe made sure he had his phone with him and his special watch, then walked out the door.

Now, Frank Hardy wasn't usually one to rush to get turned down twice in one day, but not ten minutes later, he found himself showing up at her door with a Chinese takeout menu, murmuring a prayer under his breath.

XXXXX


	7. Day 1 Part III

_Thanks for being patient with me, everyone! Once again, I already had three or four pages of this chapter typed when my computer crashed. Luckily, I didn't like them. So, I'm forced to start afresh. _

_Summer is busy, but my burn for this story is fervent! I hope you all are still enjoying yourselves! This story is moving slowly, I know, but if you've read me before, you know I like action and suspense, and not just the emotional kind! Last chapter, the main complaint was for the lack of Nancy/Frank fluff… guys, patience is a virtue. The next request was for information on Nancy's past. Again, patience. What fun would it be if you knew it all at once? For me anyway? ;-)_

_Hold on, gang!_

_-rosa_

Chapter Six: Just Thinking

_Frank smirked. "Then why rush to a movie with her when you just met her, Casanova?"_

"_Because I want to see this movie. Besides, I'm doing you a favor. Do with it what you will."_

_With that, Joe made sure he had his phone with him and his special watch, then walked out the door._

_Now, Frank Hardy wasn't usually one to rush to get turned down twice in one day, but not ten minutes later, he found himself showing up at her door with a Chinese takeout menu, murmuring a prayer under his breath._

XXX

Nancy was sitting on the floor of her bathroom, leaning against the counter and clutching her knees to her chest. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady—there would be no cameras in the bathroom, no way for an agent on her team to see her vulnerable.

Nancy willed her body to cooperate with her; she forced herself to breath slowly, to close her eyes only gently, holding her muscles completely still and lax. The moment she was alone and off the phone, she'd finally let the happenings of the last week sink in; the result had been overwhelming.

In her first few years as a special agent, Nancy had let her innocence fall away after the things she'd seen on the Organized Crime unit. After a few visits with the unit's shrink—a former agent himself—she'd learned the importance of meditation. She couldn't safely bottle the fear, worry, self-deprecation, or—most frightening—the hatred and the anger that steadily gained momentum behind her heart; if she kept it locked within, she couldn't function. And through meditation, she often found answers to several species of questions. But not all—never all.

So, Nancy, as she often did, let the wall in her mind down and let the images and emotions from the past week consume her. The salty stream of her consciousness crashed into her closed eyelids with volcanic force.

_She was flying a plane; her hands throbbed around the controls. Instead of the ocean or a patched quilt of landscape, her plane's windshield showed her pictures from her life. _

_Carson Drew; her father's laugh lines had warped into worry lines over the past ten years, digging deeper into his handsome face. He was sitting by the telephone. _

_Hannah Gruen was still working around the house; slower than before, but still dedicated. She seemed to glance up from the sink as Nancy's plane flew overhead. _

_Bess and George. Bess and George bound and gagged or unconscious or drugged or hurt. But those clouds pulled aside as the plane moved smoothly forward, and Nancy saw Bess as she'd been last—drinking and laughing cheerily while on break from the set of _Yesterday_, a fledgling soap opera. George was there, too, with her husband, celebrating the completion of Bess's first season. George surprised everyone by getting married first; yet, it had been to the assistant coach of her college swimming team. George worked in sports medicine at the university alongside her husband, Tom Jennings, who was seven years her senior._

_The three of them were sitting at a table for four, with an empty chair. They seemed to be waiting for someone. Nancy felt her grip tighten on the stick, feeling the immense weight of the plane shuddering beneath her._

_Then, like a dream, his face appeared before the nose of the plane. Ned. As she came closer, she could see him. Standing, patiently, always waiting on her, his eyes sparkling like diamond. But then, the plane rebelled under her hands. It wobbled in the air, then began a dive. She pulled up, but the stick came out into her hands, useless. She was plunging down, but still, out the windshield, she could see him. Suddenly, a spider was crawling on him, into his hair, and he turned away from her with anger in his eyes, disappearing into the black clouds._

"_Alice in wonderland!" someone called. Joe was hanging onto the wing, reaching to her with one hand; entwined in his fingers were Iola's marred keys. He lost his grip, and flew from the wing, still looking Nancy in the eye and holding out the keys for her._

"_Pull up, Clarice!" came a mocking voice. She turned. There, sitting in her copilot's chair, was Vladislav Krutin. She threw the useless steering stick at him, but he vanished, a ghoulish laugh echoing over the plane's alarms._

_She was plunging to her death. Joe had gone before her._

"_Nan!" _

_She turned, twisting her body so she could see behind her seat. Frank Hardy was waiting. A parachute was strapped to his back, and his arms were open._

_But then, Krutin appeared again. He jammed a gun against Frank's temple and pulled the trigger…_

_BANG._

Nancy's eyes popped open, startled, her heart pounding with instinctive fervor. She felt her muscles tighten as her mind slowly let go of the images.

BANG, BANG.

It wasn't a gunshot. It was someone knocking on her door. Disoriented, she blinked, suddenly jerked from her meditative state. "Coming!" she called, stumbling to her feet.

Nancy turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was ashen, her eyes wide and hard. She could see the fabric of her shirt bouncing with her heartbeat. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, rubbing her cheeks to bring the color back. A moment later, she felt fine. The details of the vision—if you could call it that—were seeping away from her. She didn't attempt to hold on to them as she stepped from the bathroom, confidence returning to her air.

She looked through the peep hole, then swung the door wide open, trying to twist her lips into a smile.

"Come on in, Jake."

XXXX

Joe was sitting in the back of the movie theatre, paying little attention to the movie or the brainless girl whose name was in fact NOT Holly but Haley. He'd discovered that little tidbit earlier in the evening. Bomb and Andy had been in line behind them, and he thought he'd heard Bomb snort back a laugh. And just like any guy would, Joe looked helplessly over his shoulder and shrugged.

Bomb shot him a pitying glance between guys, then ignored him, turning to Andy instead. They hadn't even glanced at him again thus far, but he knew they were sitting several rows up, watching them. Joe couldn't help but feel a little freaked out—but it had nothing to do with the movie.

The blonde—_Haley_—however, was taking every chance she got to shriek and grab his arm. Not so good for anonymity, but still enjoyable on his part, Joe noted with a grin.

For a moment he was reminded of Bess Marvin, but the thought vanished as the killer dove from the rooftop on top of the unsuspecting couple. The killer managed knock out the guy by throwing him into a light post, but the girl got a good hit in by whacking him upside the head with her purse. Joe almost laughed at that one.

For a moment, the girl in the film took on Nancy's face; eyes strong, purse swinging fiercely. Joe smiled, but it slowly faded.

Sure, he missed the old Nancy. Sure, he realized this wasn't a normal situation. Sure, he'd held a fierce desire to call her sister-in-law for some time now, but that wasn't what was bothering him, he realized. Not this time.

After all, Joe Hardy was still a detective by nature. It was still within him to recognize similiarites, gauge emotions, find connetions between things that no one else saw. And as he mentally assessed how Nancy had been acting, including all her valiant efforts to be an emotional statue, a connection surfaced. His eyes widened as the pieces fell--and he was suddenly very aware of the absense of Iola's keys in his pocket.

For once, Joe Hardy hoped to God that his hunch was wrong.

He jumped when a hand landed on his arm and perfectly manicured fingernails made indentations in his skin.

"Wasn't that _scary!_" Haley cried as the credits rolled. The movie was over.

"Horrifying..." Joe answered grimly, mind elsewhere.

XXX

Frank crossed Nancy's threshold walking on emotional eggshells. His brief assessment of her showed that he'd interrupted something... and for her sake, he hoped it was sleep.

"Did I wake you?" he asked curiously. He wondered when she actually smiled at the question.

"Kind of. I wasn't asleep, though. Just... thinking."

_Darn._ A silence ensued, and for once, Nancy didn't break it. She simply turned and took a seat on her couch, then looked up at him expectantly.

An idea popped into Frank's head. His eyes widened briefly at the sheer evil of it. But, in the end, he knew it would work. It was one weakness Nancy would never shed.

He tried to act embarrassed. "I... uh... it was kind of quiet in the apartment after Corey left, so... I thought... maybe... you might want some company?"

Nancy stared at him for a moment, slightly suspicious. But her heart for victims won out. And, assuming that he didn't want to be alone, she smiled kindly and waved her arm to the chair across from her. "We still haven't had a chance to really talk, have we?"

_Because both times, I asked you about Pittsburgh and you locked up. And last night, there was that whole spider incident... _"I guess not," he replied with a lopsided grin, plopping into the recliner she'd pointed out. "Besides last night and when you... dyed my hair."

Frank's heart soared when Nancy grinned broadly. "You weren't expecting that, were you? It was worth it, though, just for the look on your face."

Frank didn't bother bringing up the fact that having her dye his hair was extremely sensual and not a little arousing; she'd probably sensed as much. He just grinned boyishly, pushed his new Peter Parker glasses back up his nose, and changed the subject, waving the Chinese menu. "Well, Alice, as I am still the chivalrous one and the Bureau was kind enough to leave some money in those cheap wallets they left for us, I intend to treat you to some gourmet Chinese takeout. What's your pleasure?"

Nancy's grin didn't fade. "I put that money there, Fitz."

"Well, now that you've thoroughly imasculated me, I think I should tell you that I happen to remember what your favorite used to be."

"Is that so? After ten years of almost no contact?" A challenge sparkled in her falsely brown eyes.

Frank returned the look. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you would kill for shrimp lo mein, would you not?"

He was pleased to see she was surprised. "Impressive. But I happen to know that you happen to hold an inexplicable passion for Hunan beef and pork fried rice."

Nancy almost smirked as surprise moved from her face to Frank's. She continued on smoothly. "Now that that's taken care of, I'll call and order for us." Before he could protest, she smiled and said, "Trust me."

Curious now, Frank reclined back and watched her pick up the phone. Even now, she still waited about thirty seconds before actually dialing, listening sharply for another click. When she heard nothing, she dialed. A moment later, she was on the line with the restauraunt and Frank's jaw was on the floor.

She was ordering in Chinese.

When she hung up, a small smile still played on her lips. She knew she'd impressed him.

"You speak Chinese."

She sat back down. "Not much. Enough to order takeout and carry on a very simple conversation. I can't read the symbols very well." At Frank's curious glance, she added, "I did get a Masters in foreign languages."

Frank crossed his arms, fascinated. "What other languages do you know?"

She mentally checked them off a list as she said them. "Spanish, French, Italian, some German, and, of course, Russian."

Frank was speechless. "Wow," was the most he could manage.

Special Agent Drew actually blushed. "It's not that much. I already knew most of my Spanish and French from high school, and the only German I know comes from studying a little in my free time. Italian was similiar to Spanish. Russian was the really hard one to learn." Feeling awkward about talking only of herself, she said, "What about yourself? I happen to recall that you did some study in forensics."

Frank couldn't help but find her modesty endearing, so he indulged her. "Yeah. I am a detective by rank, but I still do... did lots of forensic work. I studied crime scene investigation, ballistics, and forensic linguistics."

Nancy's eyebrow shot up. "Linguistics? Wow. Did you do any codebreaking?"

"Some. And I like to think I was pretty good. But the occassion for codebreaking didn't rise often at the NYPD. Plus, forensic linguistics is mainly about recognizing accents and dialects, analyzing confessions, assessing the level of threat in a ransom demand, or determining the level of genuineness of a suicide note."

"Sounds important."

He smiled. Which he seemed to be doing often. "It was considered the nerdy job at the precinct. But, I might add that the only reason we had suspicions that Detective Cassidy--the dead cop in our case that lead to the Robinsons-- was onto something bigger than a motherload of smack was the analysis I did on his case reports."

Nancy smiled back, leaning forward in her seat on the couch. "Then it is important."

"Well, the only language I know fluently is English, so I have to work with what I know," he quipped.

They were silent for a moment. Then, Nancy said quietly, "You'll still get to do more forensic work, Fitz. I'll make sure of that."

Frank held her eyes seriously. "I know." Then, he sighed. "It's been so long, Ali. How did this happen?"

Her answer was soft. "It couldn't be helped," she whispered. "In college, we were both busy with school and our cases rarely intersected. And after college, we all buried ourselves in our work. It's who we are."

Frank was about to answer, but a knock sounded at the door. Frank rose to answer, but Nancy shook her head sharply. She moved to the door with caution and stealth, looking out the peep hole first. She turned and nodded at Frank with an apologetic glance. He shrugged, and grabbed his wallet as she opened the door.

Frank paid and tipped, then took the food from the delivery guy and began to set it out in Nancy's kitchen. Nancy thanked him in Chinese and watched him leave. She saw JJ lingering at the end of the hall, but did not acknowledge him. However, when she stepped back inside her apartment, she was smiling with approval.

When Nancy returned to the table, she was surprised to see everything set out neatly, including a tiny lit candle in the center of the table. She laughed softly. "JJ will be curious."

Frank waved that away. "If Corey gets to go on a date, so do I!" he said playfully, imitating the voice of a jealous child.

But Nancy was not amused. In fact, she had paled just slightly. Confused, but not wanting her to lock up again, Frank quickly changed the subject as they dug into their food. "I can't believe him sometimes," he said with amazement.

"That's Corey for you. But I happen to know a girl who could probably pull off the same thing if she wanted."

Frank immediately knew she was talking about Bess Marvin but waited to see if Nancy would give Bess a codename. "Is that so?" He lifted his eyebrows to voice the silent question.

"Beth would probably already be on a date, too."

Frank nodded, registering the name. "I can only imagine."

"That reminds me; how did you leave everyone back home?"

Frank looked off into the distance, thinking of his family and friends back in Bayport and NYC. "Everyone was well when we left, my parents and aunt included. Our friend, Chad,--" he checked to see if Nancy knew he was talking about Chet Morton, and she nodded, "--became a chef; he's doing pretty well. Corey had already split with Victoria a few years back and was living the life of the bona fide bacheleor. Cassie is engaged."

Nancy's eyebrows shot up. "Engaged?" Silently, Nancy cursed the sudden flutter in her chest.

Frank watched Nancy carefully, hopefully. "Yeah. She and I broke up a long time ago. We went to different colleges, and one day, when we were on the phone, we realized we hardly knew why we were still together at all, besides the fact that we always had been. We hardly saw each other and rarely talked; the relationship was stale and we both deserved more. We parted on very friendly terms, and a few months ago, she and a mutual friend announced their engagement."

Nancy didn't miss the bit of regret in his voice; her heart ached for Frank when she asked the next question. "When is the wedding?"

"I think they were going for next fall."

Frank glanced at Nancy and immediately saw the guilt starting to form around her features as she stared into her food. He put his fork down, and touched her hand. "Come on, Ali, it's not your fault. I got myself into this mess. Plus, with my job, there was already a god chance that I'd miss it, anyway. Besides, if it means getting to live next door to you after not seeing you for ten years, I'd miss ex-girlfriend's wedding, no questions asked."

Nancy looked up, smiling tightly. "I've missed you, too, Jake."

As they finished the remains of their food, Frank remembered the remark that had been made on the plane.

_We can't all end up happily married to our high school sweethearts._

He would have to go about this very gently, he knew, but he couldn't stand not knowing, especially after seeing how Nancy had responded to the news that Callie was engaged to someone else.

"What about you? How is everyone back in your neck of the woods?"

"Dad is finally starting to think about retirement, but doesn't look on the idea with fondness. Our housekeeper, on the other hand, flat out refuses to retire," she said with fond smile. "Beth is a supporting actress on a soap opera and still very much a bacheleorette. Ginger, on the other hand, caused several people to lose some bets when she was the first of the three of us to get married. She and her husband work in sports medicine at a college. I haven't seen any of them in almost a year... Dad is the only one I can safely speak to on the phone...I miss them terribly."

Frank nodded sympathetically, then waited. When she didn't continue, he gave her a long stare.

"What about Nate?" he asked, very softly.

Though she'd been expecting the question, Nancy's eye immediately shut tightly, forcing the memories away.

"Ali..." his voice was soft, encouraging... even imploring. "You can tell me."

She was silent for a long moment. Frank waited patiently.

"Nate left me," she said finally. "Four years ago."

Frank remained quiet, wanting her to continue, not trusting his voice, hating the small bit of elation that he felt.

"I was a new agent, working in the Organized Crime unit. I was never in town and most times, I couldn't safely speak on the phone. He hated it and he left me. It was sudden. Unexpected. One day, he just disappeared from my life. _BAM!_ Just like that. At first, I thought there was no reason for it; he just left. But I knew it was my fault... my work... drove him away." Her cheeks flushed with the effort it took to compose herself.

He wanted to comfort her, console her, tell her it wasn't her fault, Ned didn't deserve her anyway... but he didn't.

"Ali... why didn't you tell me? I... I would have been there for you."

"I know, but--"

A knock at the door startled them both. Nancy had instantly jumped up and her hand had flown to her jacket, but shaking her head to herself, she pulled it back out, empty. She looked out the peep hole.

"It just Corey," she said, laughing breathlessly. She opened the door to let him in.

"Hey, Al, I was just checking in with you, so... Jake?"

His eyes landed on his brother with surprise. He smirked; Frank did have guts, after all. Then, he saw the Chinese food on the table. He burst in, gesturing to the empty cartons with mock betrayal.

"What is this? I leave for a few hours, and you guys get Chinese food and leave me to stale movie popcorn and fast food?"

Nancy grinned. "You bought her fast food? Corey, you are such a cheapskate."

Joe returned the grin. "Well, I had to do it so she wouldn't want to go on another date. I'm too young for committment."

They all laughed, and Joe told them the story of the night, including the fast food and how he forgot her name. They all had a good laugh, though Frank knew that all hopes he had of getting Nancy to open up any more were shot for tonight. Not long after Joe's arrival, Nancy got a phone call from Gates to report, and Joe and Frank politely took their leave for the night. Once again, Frank didn't get a chance to give Nancy the kiss on the cheek that he usually would have given.

Nancy watched them walk into their apartment, then shut the door.

"Yes," she said to Gates over her cell, "They're both in for the night. Thanks for doing that for me, Go-Go. Corey needed that. Tell everyone to rotate shifts now and again at 0700. Yeah. Thanks again."

She hung up. Nancy silently cleaned up the kitchen, giving the empty Chinese cartons a regretful gaze before tossing them. Knowing there were no cameras in her bathroom, she went in, undressed, then stood in the shower late into the night, allowing a few tears to mingle with the spray.

XXXXX

_**Questions/Comments? Love to hear it!**_

_**-rosa**_


	8. Day 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys or any characters affiliated. I do, however, own the original plotline they find themselves in and any original characters of my own making.**

To Protect and Serve

_Hello again, everyone! Chapter 6 has only been up for a few days and here I am, starting the next chapter. It's pretty unusual for me to do so. Generally, I wait until the reviews have basically stopped for the current chapter until beginning the next one, so I can gauge all the feedback and continue accordingly. But, like you, I want to see what happens with this story, so here I am. _

_**A Hint: **Pay attention to what Nancy saw in her "vision" last chapter. It may help you figure out the answers to the questions you all keep asking me! ;-) More answers will come in this chapter, and very soon, we shall see some serious emotional and physical action._

_**NOTICE: I've changed the chapter titles on the drop-down list for your convenience. It should be easier now to keep track of the passing of time because from now on, I won't be going day by day. The journey took three parts, the first night one part, and the first day three parts because those are critical times, both for information and character development and plot. But, now we're going to pick it up a bit. And though the whole point of Witness Protection is the be AWAY FROM THE ACTION... I'm getting antsy, so look sharp. ;-)**_

_Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy!_

_-rosa_

**Chapter Seven: Day 9**

A week passed tensely in Phoenix.

The Hardy boys went about their new, less exciting lives day by day, and usually had dinner with Nancy. But, she was farther away from them emotionally than she had been. She made small talk and forced smiles, but spent most of her time working. She made sure that their rooms and car were continually swept for bugs, was in constant contact with the FBI HQ, and managed the shifts of her agents like clockwork. Every Monday, she came in and made breakfast for the guys before they woke up, and still stayed to chat, but would brook no conversation about herself or Krutin. On the weekend, she disappeared into FBI headquarters, leaving them free to use the car and in the care of two agents each.

After a few days of this, Frank confided to Joe what Nancy had told him about Ned. Joe was puzzled. Confiding in Frank should have been a release for Nancy, but instead, she was locking up and receding into her work. Joe recalled the theory he'd developed in the movie theatre with uncertainty-- it conflicted with what Nancy had told Frank and seemed more surreal and terrible each time he thought of it. For this reason, he did not share his hunch with Frank, who was increasingly dejected by Nancy's distance.

After speaking with their parents again, very briefly, Nancy took the guys to work. Fenton Hardy reported that there was no activity linked to Krutin in New York that anyone could report. He also said that the general public, including extended family and friends, honestly believed that Frank and Joe had died in the line of duty.

Since it was raining, the gym was particularly busy, Joe noted one Sunday. He found himself running around constantly, spotting guys, fixing equipment, giving instructions... by the time the clock got around to his 11:00 am judo class, he was already tired. But, right before 11, he noticed Nancy come into the gym, letting the cute Agent Anderson take her place at dispatch. Of course, Joe was a little disappointed to see the flirty Asian leave, but he got the feeling that Agent Bombay--better known as Bomb-- had a little thing for Andy. So, with much reluctance, he let that idea go.

Joe went to the intercom and announced that judo class was starting soon. And, with amusement, he saw that Nancy was planning to come in and take his class today! He almost laughed. Even 10 years ago, Nancy had been an extreme proficient at judo; her skill had helped the Hardys out of some sticky situations. He was almost excited to show Nancy that he too had mastered the technique; he even toyed with the idea of bringing her out and sparring... but, no, it might bring too much attention to them.

He greeted her when she got to the door. "Hey, Al! Come to learn the great art of judo from a master?"

She grinned, and socked him lightly in the arm. "Only so I can beat you up, Core."

As the class assembled, Joe thought back a couple years... she had nailed him with some of her judo moves! Once, he and Frank and spotted her and Bess across the street and decided to try-- as they often did-- to get the best of the detective. Joe snuck up and snatched her purse, and she'd chased him down and kicked him good before she realized it was him. But, the picture of her standing over him and yanking her purse out of his hand reminded Joe of seeing her face in the movie character... which then reminded him of his.. theory.

So, as the class went on, he noticed something he'd rarely seen in Nancy ten years ago. With every kick, every punch her eyes darkened with pent-up anger. Her moves were fierce and quick and serious, though unnoticed by most others. She was in the back of the room. But Joe could see her. He recognized the fury in her eyes, the power behind her movement--in her mind, she was facing a real enemy. But, despite it all, she still shot Joe approving grins when he demonstrated a move.

When class was over, everyone was out of breath and retreated to the showers or the cantene, but Nancy went elsewhere. Still watching Joe, she took a spot at a punching bag, despite still being out of breath from judo. She put on gloves and stretched for a moment, Then, after taking a stance and bouncing on her toes for a moment, arms drawn in close, Nancy began to unleash on the punching bag. Joe's eyebrows shot up. Something was seriously bothering her. And, as he was under her protection, Joe figured it couldn't bode well for him either.

He checked the gym, the crowd had thinned as people left for lunch. Satisfied, he walked up to Nancy, listening to the steady thump of her blows. He took a deep breath, fingering Iola's keys in his pocket.

"What's eating you, Al?" he asked casually, watching her with appreciation. The Bureau obviously took combat training seriously.

"Oh... just this guy at work."

She was referring to Krutin no doubt. But she obviously couldn't say that.

"What about him?"

"I can't figure him out!" she answered through a grimace, throwing a killer right hook. Joe watched her, smile fading.

He chose his next words carefully. Nancy was on assignment to keep them in hiding yet she was still chasing after Krutin, it seemed. Why was she so invested? The one that got away syndrome?

"Do you need to figure him out, Al?"

_Punch._ "Yes." The word was forced through the crevices in between her teeth. She threw a kick that sent the bag swinging. Joe's movie theatre revelation flashed through his mind, and spurred him to action.

He grabbed the spinning punching bag, held it still, and looked Nancy straight in the eye.

"Nate's dead, isn't he."

Nancy stopped bouncing, and her face paled. Her hands dropped by her side, still clenched. She looked around cautiously, to ascertain if anyone was within earshot. Satisfied, she turned back to him grimly.

"Why don't you take your lunch break, Core," she mumbled half-heartedly. "Let's get out of here."

XXX

Frank stepped out of Greg's Gadgets, planning to ask Joe to join him at the KFC across the street, but stopped in his tracks. Joe was leading Nancy quickly out of the gym by the arm. When Joe opened her door, she turned, and Frank saw her face was pale and tight. Joe's manner was impatient, his expression intense. He fairly jumped into the car after her. Frank saw Nancy give a slight wave to left of the lot where JJ was parked, then, Joe gave her another expressive look, let his hand linger on her arm, then they drove off.

Frank stared, swallowing betrayal as he frantically tried to make out the situation. He thought about waving, but something kept him still.

It coudn't be an emergency about their covers or Krutin. Nancy or JJ would have come to get him or brief him.

It couldn't be a family emergency for either of them... obviously... and both seemed to be in good health, even if Nancy had been a bit pale.

Though neither looked especially happy, it didn't look like they had had some kind of argument.

Obviously, they were going out to lunch together. But.. Nancy wasn't driving. Joe had opened her door. Joe had given her a long, intense look and let his hand linger on her arm. She seemed upset over something, and she'd turned to him. She didn't recoil from his touch or falter in his gaze.

_I'm not going to overreact. I'm going to be mature about this..._

Frank tried to stifle the childish questions from surfacing, but he failed. He felt too much not to wonder, not to be hurt. He didn't know what was going on, what they were leaving to discuss, why they chose to leave him out of it... and it was killing him.

_Joe, what are you doing? _

_Nan... why Joe and not me?_

_Why did you both leave me here?_

"It's nothing," he told himself bravely, turning back and walking into the store, gulping down the lump in his throat. "Nothing at all."

XXX

Joe and Nancy drove in silence. He tried to think like an FBI Agent before he stopped at a restaurant. Nancy would want privacy; she'd want to be sure that there'd be no chance of being overheard by anyone--stranger or otherwise. So, he took her through a drive-thru, then parked their car in an empty lot and locked the doors, and rolled up the windows. He left the air on for them both. She'd been on the phone for a moment, speaking in gibberish code, he presumed. She hung up, as he was getting settled.

"The car was just swept for bugs, so we're good," she said quietly. She nibbled at her food for Joe's sake.

Joe watched her as he ate. "JJ and the rest will wonder what's going on. Or did you tell them something when you were on the phone?"

Nancy stared straight ahead, expressionless. "I don't answer to them, Corey. But yes, I told them you left something at the apartment and I was going with you for surveillance. So, it might be a good idea to swing by there for show, in case they tell Andy we're coming."

"It can wait," Joe answered her softly.

She was silent for a moment. Then, she turned and met Joe's eyes. Joe was a little stunned to see tears trying to pool there.

"I should have known you would figure it out."

He touched her hand. "How could I not, Al? I went through the same thing when... _she _died." _Iola._ "For the past week, I've watched you, and I've seen myself."

Nancy did not reply. She was staring straight ahead again, fiddling with her left ring finger.

"Al...what happened? Why did you lie to Frank the other night?"

Her teary eyes suddenly flashed. "Nothing I said was a lie!" she whispered defensively.

_"Nate left me...Four years ago. I was a new agent, working in the Organized Crime unit. I was never in town and most times, I couldn't safely speak on the phone. He hated it and he left me. It was sudden. Unexpected. One day, he just disappeared from my life. BAM! Just like that. At first, I thought there was no reason for it; he just left. But I knew it was my fault... my work... drove him away."_

Joe thought about it... it was true. She had said "left" and been deliberately vague. So it couldn't be called a lie.

"Okay. You didn't lie. But why not just tell him the truth? Why not just tell both of us the truth? We're both your friends; we would have _been_ there for you! God, Alice, I _understand!_" He grabbed her shoulder in a last-ditch effort to connect. His eyes fell on her scar.

"No!" she cried, jerking out from underneath his hand. "You _don't _understand! It was _my fault!_"

Stunned, Joe dropped his hand. And as he listened, Joe began to understand why Nancy Drew could find no peace in her dreams.

XXX

Frank chose to man the register after his lonely lunch break, as the desk had a clear view of the door.

_I trust them both,_ he kept trying to tell himself as he took bills and made change. _There's nothing to worry about._

The car pulled back into the lot over an hour after they'd left. Nancy was driving now, and she pulled up in front of the gym to drop Joe off. He got out of the car, and walked around to her side. For a moment, she refused to roll down the window, but after he knocked on it, she relented. The window came down, revealing her face flushed and eyes bloodshot. Joe was leaning in close, talking animatedly. She was stubbornly looking away. Finally, Joe jerked open the car door and knelt on the pavement, taking her hands as he spoke. Frank saw his brother throw a hand in his direction. Nancy shook her head. Finally, Joe stood, still gripping her hands. He spoke another moment, then backed away. Nancy shut her own door, rolled up her window, and drove away.

Frank watched as his brother raked his hands through his short hair in frustration of some kind. Joe took a deep breath, then jogged back into the gym.

"Hey, man, I'm not going to wait on you forever!" a disgruntled customer mumbled.

"Oh, sorry." Frank tore his eyes away from the parking lot, stretching out his clenched fists to scan the order.

XXX

_Get it together, Drew._

Nancy had stoically gone through the Big Mac/Burger King ritual, and was sitting in her own temporary office at the Phoenix headquarters.

_Come on. You can do it._

She was still reeling from her encounter with Joe... but she had work to do. She couldn't let her personal life interfere anymore with the job at hand. So, after a few deep breaths and some reapplied makeup, she called Andy for a status report.

"Go-Go, Bomb, and JJ report that all has gone well today. Nothing suspicious after you and Corey came by, nothing suspicious before then... Right now, Go-Go is watching the lot, Bomb's in the gym, and JJ stepped into the Tech store. Hourly reports have been all-clear."

_Hm... no questions. _She didn't even sound curious about the sudden and rather hasty appearance of Nancy and "Corey" at the apartment complex. Both had been swallowing a flood of emotions when they arrived.

Nancy smiled--either Andy really wasn't concerned or she knew better than to question her superior. Either way, Agent Drew wasn't going to complain.

"All right. Good. I'm hoping to move them down to level 2 eventually, if the Robinson activity stays low. But for now, tell the boys to keep it up. And you too--thanks for watching base today."

"No problem, Red. Later!"

"Bye."

_Am I being to paranoid?_ Nancy wondered. But she decided against that. Of course everything would stay quiet after barely a week. Krutin couldn't tack them down that fast. Besides, she didn't want Frank and Joe or her agents getting complacent--though the odds of that were pretty low.

She rose from her office, instictively locked it behind her, then meandered down the hall to where she knew Ray was holed up. She was trying to finish her profile so Nan and the team back in Bayport could use it in trying to track down Krutin or at least try to predict his movements.

Nancy's hand paused over the door--Reid had said something about Rachel throwing chairs at people who interrupted her--however, as Nancy was her superior on this operation, odds are Ray wouldn't being throwing things at her. So, that in mind, Nancy knocked smartly, then entered. An instant later, from a corner of dark room dully lit by a laptop's glow, she heard, "NO COFFEE!" A stapler went high, gripped menacingly.

"Federal Agent! Hold your fire!" Nancy called with a grin. "Ray, it's me."

The stapler clattered to the ground as Ray stumbled to her feet. "Oh, hey, Drew. Sorry. Come on in!"

Nancy shook her head, amused. "Can I turn on the light?"

The older black woman looked at the light switch with wariness. "I suppose so. I'm actually just finishing up."

That brought a sigh of relief from her superior. Nancy could definitely use a fifth agent in the field over Frank and Joe. "Does anything pop out at you that might help predict his movements? How far do you think Corey and Jake are on his list of priorities?"

Instantly, Ray was Special Agent, Dr. Rachel Matthews. "I spoke with some other agents who'd guarded people on Krutin's hot list. The quickest he or a hitman have ever attacked or attempted to attack a target was a month. And in that particular case, the hitman was careless, and the situation was averted. There was an ADA from Philidelphia that went into the WPP after trying to prosecute him-- in 47 days, Krutin tracked her down and executed her in a driveby. However, our two guys, Corey and Jake, actually infilitrated the Russians deeper than any other detectives... aside from yourself. I imagine they are fairly high up on the list. The lack of activity on Krutin's part makes me a little nervous for them."

Nancy frowned. "How nervous?"

"I'd say that it will take two more weeks for the Russians to find them, if they're trying. More than likely, Krutin himself will be close by to rectify the situation. So, I'd say have the team on high alert for a month, and if nothing happens for four or five weeks, you can lower them to level 2. If we get that far with no suspicious activity, I'd say that Krutin can't find us. But not until such a time."

Nancy nodded. It seemed consistent with her instincts.

"Here's a copy of my profile. I just finished the last round of editing and such. That's a rough copy, and not authorized, but I know you would rather have it now than later. When it's approved by the commisioner, I'll give you the published copy."

"Thanks, Ray," Nancy said, taking the thick document from her. "Now. I absolutely insist that you take the next two days off. We can manage surveillance without you for that time." At her protests, Nancy continud on firmly. "If I hear that you stepped foot into headquarters, I'll make you partners with Bombay on the next assignment."

At first, Ray's mouth opened, but she closed it again quickly. "Fine, you win. But I'm taking Corey and Jake's file home with me. I've been a bit out of touch for the past week."

"All right. Now, get thee to a spa or something!"

"Thanks, Drew."

Nancy promptly left with Krutin's profile under her arm. She stopped by the codebreaking office, and stuck her head in. "Any luck with the Krutin email?"

A young, rather nerdy guy looked up from a computer and shook his head. "We're running the message through several different code algorithms, and so far, nothing plausible has come up. We'll be in touch, Agent Drew."

"Thanks, guys."

She thought about stopping by to check on Reed, to see if he had intercepted any more information... but she decided against it. The man had to be a borderline clarvoyant... after her intense discussion with Joe, Reed would see right through her.

XXX

Around seven-thirty that night, Nancy appeared at their door wearing a dress and a tentative smile.

"Hey, Al, great dress!" Joe said appreciatively, pulling her in by the hand.

Frank's eyebrow shot up at the gesture, and he felt his heart twist when Joe and Nancy shared an exclusive, secretive glance; Joe was concerned, Nancy, determined. But, it passed as quickly as it happened.

"You guys are taking me swing dancing! And you have 20 minutes to get ready. There will be food there. Come on, let's go!"

She was actually excited. And despite every suspicion whirling in his chest, Frank grinned. "Is this... okay?" he asked, referring to their WPP status.

"Yeah, I got it all covered." Translation: the other agents will be all over us.

"Sweet!" Joe cried, rushing off to get ready, smiling intensely at Nancy.

Frank was left alone with her for a moment. She looked him right in the face, and smiled a little. The same cautious smile that had made his knees shake for the past week and a half... heck for the past 10 years!

He thought about asking her about her lunch with Joe... but she seemed so different tonight, so... innocent... he didn't want to crack the unfinished bridge by walking over it too soon. Besides... he was afraid of what she might confess to him. Either of two possible responses was horrible.

_Frank... Joe and I... _that one was particularly gut-wrenching. But the second possiblilty had flaws as well.

_Frank... I trusted Joe with something with which I could not trust you. _In a way, this was almost more painful.

So, Frank chose to ignore the subject for the moment, deciding to trust them and bury the anxiety for tomorrow. After doing so, he found himself boyishly nervous in front of the woman for which he'd pined for so long.

"Well, Ali... I'm going to uh... go get ready... so... just a few minutes... ok?"

"Ok, Jake," she said patiently, smiling... shyly, even.

Feeling teenage desires swimming in his stomach, Frank fled to his room.

XXX

A half hour later, Frank was watching Joe expertly lead Nancy around the dance floor for the first dance. Normally, the sight of his brother and Nancy dancing or being affectionate was an endearing sight... tonight, though, he found it rather unnerving. But, he had no claim on Nancy. And neither really made any remarks or acted in such a way to suggest they were forming a romantic relationship... but love, after all, is irrational.

The entire team of agents, minus Ray who was on her forced vacation, was there tonight. Pop was out in the lot, monitoring who came and went through video feed and his own observation, and the others were scattered around the ballroom, out of earshot but always within sight.

When they returned to their table, Nancy was actually laughing. "Where did you learn to dance, Core? I didn't expect you to be so experienced!"

Joe looked offended. "Why, Al, I'm crushed! But, you should know that being a proficient dancer, I've learned, is killer ammo on the ladies. They just can't resist me."

She laughed again, and Frank felt some of his tension dissolve away. But, he was a little intimidated... he himself was grossly inexperienced in the area of swing dancing. She had only just sat down when another man no one recognized approached and asked her for the next number.

Frank felt every muscle in his body freeze with instant alarm, but his mouth went dry. Nancy appeared guarded at first, but in the end, paused, as if waiting on something, then shrugged and nodded, slowly giving her hand to him.

When they'd begun to dance, Joe whirled on Frank.

"What the hell, man?"

Frank bit his lip, grinding his back teeth together. "Can it, Core."

Joe waved off the burr, leaning over in his chair angrily. "She's not going to wait on you forever!"

Frank chuckled mirthlessly. "You're the second person to say that to me today. I don't want to hear it."

His tone would brook no reply... from anyone other than Joe.

Joe grabbed his arm, his grip numbing and serious. "Jake. If you don't go for her, we'll all lose her."

The image of them sitting closely in the car flashed through Frank's mind, hardening him to the concern the remark would have evoked. "I said I don't want to hear it," he hissed again, low and dangeorus.

Joe silenced, frustrated and hurt. Frank's eyes landed on Nancy, watching her skirt flare elegantly out around her. They were close enough to where he could almost read their lips.

_Where... you...the scar? _it appeared her partner was asking, his eyes on her forehead.

Her smile diminished, but her reply was casual. _Long story... fell _was all Frank could make out before he twirled her. And Frank doubted it was true.

Later in the evening, Nancy had danced with Joe several other times and had a few other partners. Joe had made a point to be engaged for every song, twirling and spinning women into giggles and blushes.

Frank remained at the table, declining the few brave offers he'd recieved. Finally, during a slower song when neither was engaged, Nancy ventured to ask him, "Why aren't you dancing?"

Frank swallowed his lingering anger at Joe and himself and even Nancy, and responded quietly... "I'm not a very good swing dancer."

Nancy's smile was slow, unsure. "Come on," she said softly, standing. "The song is slow and half-way over. You can do it." Her bare and slender, gun-calloused hand awaited him.

His uncertainties crumbled into her palm.

They walked across the dance floor, stopping in a clear corner.

"Ok, the basic step is slow, slow, quick-quick, slow, slow, quick-quick slow." She demonstrated, and he fell into step with her, holding both of her hands in his own.

They did the basic step for a few moments, until Nancy smiled and whispered, "I don't move unless you move me."

He returned the smile, and turned her under his arm. She expertly fell back into step when she came around.

"How did you learn to do this?" he inquired, eyes carefully following her feet.

He felt a tremor in her hands. "Long ago," she answered finally.

_With Ned. _Frank couldn't decide whether or not to despise Ned for leaving Nancy or thank him for it. Either way, the matter was untouchable tonight.

He turned her to the left, sending her into a free spin he'd watched Joe perform. Her smile slowly returned.

"How are you enjoying your job?"

He laughed scratchily. "It's a nice change from my old job. Greg's place is small enough to where there's not much stress and usually not much to do. Greg himself is pretty laid back."

"Good."

_Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow..._

Frank turned her again, then pulled her back in for a recovery. This time, his hand landed on the small of her back, pulling her closer. Her hand landed softly on his shoulder, her eyes on his face.

"How do you like your job?" he blurted impetuously, breathily.

Nancy met his eyes, her gaze unwavering. He thought he saw something in her eyes, but it fell behind her brown contacts.

"At the moment, I'm liking it just fine."

XXX

When they left, Frank drove. Nancy sat beside him in the front, and Joe immediately fell asleep in the backseat... or at least, faked it admirably. The silence in the car was comfortable. And something strange happened along the way.

Nancy dozed off.

It was the first time Frank had witnessed her sleep this whole trip... probably the first time in several years.

Back in their youth, she'd appeared childlike and peaceful when sleeping. Now, as she dozed, her eyebrows were knit tightly--making her scar appear jagged-- and her lips were white.

"What plagues you, Ali?" Frank whispered to her, allowing his hand to hover dangerously close above her own... but in the end, it fell back on the wheel. When they arrived home, he was loathe to wake her.

"Ali... we're back."

Her eyes snapped open, already alert from her shallow sleep.

"Ok." Her followed her eyes to the car clock-- after midnight. She sighed. "I'm going to head to my apartment, check my email and stuff, then go to bed."

He left the car reluctantly, hurrying over to open her door and hand her from the vehicle. She smiled softly at the gesture, nodding her appreciation. He then pounded on Joe's window, startling him from his sleep. At first, Joe's eyes flashed with resentment, but Frank smiled his forgiveness for their somewhat fight earlier in the evening. Joe rolled his eyes, and hobbled from the car, sleepily.

"Goodnight guys," Nancy said when they reached their respective apartments. "I'll come make breakfast for you in the morning. You won't even know I'm there."

_Doubtful,_ Joe thought, glancing at his intent brother. "'Night, Al," he said, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, before quickly retiring into their suite and closing the door behind him.

Frank and Nancy were silent for a moment, knowing they were being watched and aware of the heat between them.

Finally, Nancy sighed. "Goodnight, Jake. It was wonderful."

He nodded quietly, taking her hand in his own. He brought it close to his mouth, and murmured, "Sweet dreams, Ali," without actually kissing it. She seemed to wait for a moment, then smiled softly, retreating into her apartment.

Frank stood at the door for a long moment, then shot a helpless glance to the clouded sky before turning in.

XXX

In her room, Nancy swallowed all the conflicting feelings, her mind whirling. Her conversation with Joe, her intense dance with Frank, his breath on her hand... she pushed them away, and fell into the chair before her computer.

She opened her secure connection, and entered her email, decoding the encryption as she opened each message. When she saw one from a familiar ISP, her grip around the mouse tightened.

When she opened the email, her face paled.

XXX

_Thanks for reading; please review._

_-rosa_


	9. Day 10

_Hello, everyone! I thank you all for your fantastically encouraging reviews last chapter! I always appreciate your feedback, whether I reply or not! I read every single review, often more than once. So, bring it on! _

_Now would be the time to keep on your toes--the emotional tension, the pending danger, the unanswered questions... all will be resolved in the near future..._

_-rosa_

**To Protect and Serve**

Chapter 8: Day 10

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Frank found himself in the dark depths of an Egyptian tomb, and he was running. His breaths echoed off the dead walls; every beat of his pounding heart sent the dust into a pagan dance._

_His watch wasn't broken, but with every step he took, the minute hand spun further back in time._

_He looked over his shoulder--nothing. The floor, the walls, the dust, the bones all vanished into blackness as he passed; behind him, darkness followed._

_He didn't have Nancy's penlight._

_He knew he was running in circles, he knew he was getting nowhere at all. With every passing instant, the urgent panic--bitter and nauseating--bubbled and churned in his chest._

_But suddenly the ground opened under his feat, and he fell through a trap door into dark. He fell onto the floor of a glowing room with no doors or windows. In the center was a dusty stone coffin, covered with brown bloodstains and cobwebs. Next to the coffin, a waning torch was perced._

_Feeling his breath catch, Frank heaved the lid from tomb and reached in and pulled her limp body out, cradling her close as the coffin vanished, the tomb dissolved away, and a flaming bird burst from the pale horizon as he brought her lips to his, as his breath became hers..._

_Suddenly, a shot shattered and the bird was gone and Nancy's eyes were clenched shut in pain just before she vanished and his watch face exploded._

Frank shot out of bed and nearly fell out. His breath came in gasps, and he was soaked in sweat. His heart was pounding still.

Suddenly, he had the overwhelming urge to see Nancy with his own eyes, to see her alive in front of him.

_It's Monday!_ he remembered, elated. _She'll be making breakfast._

He threw on some clothes and burst into the kitchen, only to find the lights off, the room quiet. He flipped the switch; light flooded the room, illuminating a still figure by the door. Frank tensed, reaching for a something to use as a weapon.

"Easy, Jake. It's me."

Frank started. It was JJ--Agent Johnson. "JJ?! What the hell are you doing in our kitchen? Isn't this bad for our cover?"

JJ shook his head. "Your security has been lifted to Level Four security for the day. You are both expected to call in to work--one sick, one family emergency. You are not to leave the building without a Bureau escort."

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "Why?" Then, a more important thought surfaced. "Where's Al--Agent Drew?"

JJ glanced out the close blinds, then turned back to Frank. "Headquarters. She has reason to believe Krutin may know your location."

Frank was very still for a moment, wating for the fear, the fiery flashbacks. They never came. "Level with me, Johnson. I'm a cop. What spooked her?"

The Hispanic man shook his head. "I cannot say. If Drew wants to tell you, she will. If she doesn't level with you, she'll probably move the two of you--new names, new jobs, new city."

Frank leveled his gaze at the FBI agent.

"How could they have found us so fast?"

JJ sighed, but his stance remained erect and alert. His eyes constantly scanned the room. "You two are very high up on his hit list. You tricked him--in essense, humiliated him--gained his trust, betrayed it, then almost captured him. No one's come that close in years. Plus, Krutin has contacts all over the country. There are no known contacts in Phoenix, of course, but he has never been a predictable adversary."

Frank nodded solemnly, digesting that information. Suddenly, something on the table caught his eye; he walked over to examine it and a delightful smell radiated from the box. Taped to the bag was a note:

_Sorry about breakfast: hope this will do! -Alice_

Frank smiled softly; inside the plastic bag were several boxes of different breakfast foods from various fast food restaruants.

At that moment, Joe paraded into the room, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips, but stopped short.

"Aw, I've been drooling in my sleep thinking about Al's cooking; where is she?"

JJ gave Joe the CliffNotes version of the story; Frank offered first picks from the fast food as appeasement. It worked.

After they'd both eated and called in to work, Joe was lounging on the couch watching a football game. Frank sent a glance over to JJ.

"Hey, JJ, will someone rotate out with you?"

JJ grinned. "What, you feel sorry for me? Cute. Yeah, we're going to rotate out. I don't know the schedule, but Drew is going to be here this evening since her cover is most conducive to primetime socializing."

Frank grimaced; the nightmare he'd had now had a whole day to fester. But when Nancy Drew walked through the door, he would have some questions.

But, for a moment, he wished he had danced with her more the previous night.

XXX

"I want to know where this email came from!" Nancy yelled over the bustling chaos of the Krutin Team room at Headquarters. A piece of paper was crumpled into her tight fist, and she was pacing up and down the aisles of workstations, making sure everyone was working. "No one leaves until I have the trace report in my hand and a copy of all Krutin's known contacts in Arizona! I want rap sheets, I want mug shots, I want to know last known whereabouts, and no one leaves this room until I do! I want to know names of every single person that was in that dance club last night. _And no one leaves until I do!_"

That said, Nancy lowered her fist, and uncrumpled the page again, even though she had the short message memorized.

_Давай танцевать._

_Let's dance._

Every time she read it, she wanted to hit something, wanted to run back to the apartment to make sure Frank and Joe were safe... wanted to pound her head into a wall. She crumpled into a chair, and raked a hand through her now-short, now-brown hair. She sensed someone sit down next to her but didn't look up.

"No one here knows what it says but us, Drew. All of these people are trusting your word, trusting your instincts, not wondering why you want to raid a swing dancing club."

A highly specialized team of tech agents were analyzing the email on Nancy's laptop which was perched in the center of the room.

Nancy crumpled the paper again into the palm of her hand, feeling Reed Shuler's grandfatherly presence. "Yeah. Corey and Jake are trusting my instincts, too. And my instincts might have just signed their names onto another hellish plane ticket to another fake life."

"That's what the WPP is. If you have to move them, you have to move them."

She sighed haggardly. "And it came from a known email address of Krutin's. Bomb is trying to trace the email address through some highly complicated thing that I don't understand. I just want it to work."

Reed realized the gravity of the situation. Nancy was assuming that one of Krutin's contacts might have recognized the three of them at the swing dancing club. But there were other possibilities.

"Perhaps it's slang; dance as in fight. Like a threat to say that Russians aren't going to let lie. Or perhaps Krutin himself did write the email and was referring back to... Pittsburgh."

Nancy's eyes narrowed to slits. "That does make sense. I have gotten a two other emails that I suspected were from him in the past referencing that night. Perhaps I am jumping the gun, here, but I don't want to take a chance."

"The other emails were years ago, right after Pittsburgh, though. The theory is pretty flimsy."

"Any luck with the other email? That one that said something about a hot lemon?" Nancy asked suddenly, hopefully.

Reed shook his head. "No. The breakers are nearly stumped. Nothing has come up in the computers yet, so he hasn't used any known code pattern. And the two emails are from different email addresses. One of Krutin's right hand men could have sent them both. We don't know."

Nancy was not relieved. "They're on Level Four right now. Stuck in their apartment with full time surveillance with a body guard present in the apartment at all times. And they're still being monitored by camera as well. But if I find out the email was sent from New York or Philly, I'll feel a little better. But I still want to know what contact of Krutin's sent them the detail about the dancing. If indeed that is not an outlandish coincidence." She thought about it. "But even if that happens, I think I will still move them at the end of the week. I won't take any chances with their lives."

Reed nodded in agreement. It was reasonable, but he had never once seen Nancy pull rank before. But this morning, she'd been marching around Headquarters ordering around every pour soul she was allowed to order around. What was it about this case that was making her so skittish?

XXX

Right after lunch, Joe was surfing the TV desperately looking for something other than cartoons, talk shows, or soap operas. Thus far, he was unsuccessful.

"Damn. Jake, I just had a revelation. _This_. _This _is why people get jobs. Because there is nothing to do during the day. Look: no football. No COPS reruns. The Law and Order reruns don't start till four. We're goners, pal."

Frank ignored his brother for the moment, thinking about a certain unnatural brunette. And a certain scene involving said brunette and his newly crew-cut-sporting brother was playing in his head.

That was a few days ago; he'd resisted well, he thought. But first, the two of them go gallivanting off to lunch together, an engagement which ends with Joe on his knees holding Nancy's hands in the parking lot... and as if that picture itself wasn't enough to turn his face green, Joe had spent half the previous night twirling Nancy around the dane floor.

Frank sucked in a breath. He could be mature about this; he would be mature about this! But he had to know.

"Hey, Andy, have at the TV for a while if you want. Corey and I are going to talk in my room for a minute—guy stuff. Is that cool?"

Joe looked up curiously but obediently tossed the Asian woman the remote. She caught it with one hand, smirking mischievously. "As long as you're not guy-talking about me, be my guest."

Joe followed Frank's retreat into the bedroom with spread hands. "We wouldn't dream of it, darling," he said charmingly, almost catching her hand. "We're in enough danger as it is without being put on Bomb's hit list too."

She laughed, and gently shoved him away.

Joe shut the door as he walked in, finally allowing the concern to filter into his eyes. "Frank, listen to me."

Frank looked up, alarmed at the use of his real name. Joe waved that away. "They just searched for bugs. But that's beside the point! I know what you want to talk about, and I am not in love with her," Joe hissed.

Frank was stunned. "How... how did you...?"

"You're my brother, for god's sake. And you've been in love with Nancy since the first time she proved you wrong."

Frank was speechless for a moment, sinking onto the bed. But the vulnerability made his temper flare. "Ok, then what _were_ you doing with here the other day in the parking lot? Why did you two of you bolt without me? What happened?"

Joe shook his head. "We were just talking,"

Frank leaned forward, palms up. "About what? Why didn't she come to me?"

Joe sat on the bed next to his brother. "She didn't come to me. She doesn't come to anyone for help anymore. I had to back her into a corner and catch her off-guard to get her to talk to me."

Frank was curious. "How did you get her to open up? I've been trying to do that for weeks."

Joe smiled crookedly. "She and I have more in common now that we did ten years ago."

"What do you mean? What did you talk about?"

Joe suddenly shook his head. "I won't tell you."

Not _I can't_ or _not now._ _I won't. _Frank's temper sparked. "What? Why not?"

Joe touched his shoulder. "Her secrets are not mine to tell. But rest easy, big brother. The two of us are like brother and sister—nothing more." He stood and took two steps towards the door, turning around to face Frank again, his hand lingering over the doorknob. "But I suggest you get her to open up to you before she closes off to the world."

Joe left Frank alone in the bedroom; Frank was suddenly greeted by an image from his nightmare. _Feeling his breath catch, Frank heaved the lid from tomb and reached in and pulled her limp body out, cradling her close as the coffin vanished..._

XXX

Agent Drew sucked half-heartedly at a lukewarm cup of coffee. "Report, please. Someone."

Reed Shuler waved down the other agents who stood; they eagerly allowed him the task.

"All right, Nancy. We've been at this all day. Here's what we've found out." He passed her some papers.

"The first email we intercepted was traced back to an internet cafe in the Big Apple. No way to trace who sent it apart from that computer. Still, some agents in New York asking questions."

He lead her hand to the next paper. "Here's the email you received last night. Bomb traced it back to a computer belonging to a 19 year old kid in St. Louis, Missouri. Agents are picking him up now. It could be that Krutin or one of his thugs bribed and/or threatened the kid into sending the email. But there's always the off-chance that this kid happened to see your picture on the news and hacked his way to finding your email address."

Nancy was sitting up straight now, looking a little relieved. "Ok. Send word to HQ in St. Louis to keep me posted on this kid. But at least this means I could be overreacting." She was quiet for a moment. "Still. New York to St. Louis. That's closing in on Phoenix, Reed. I don't like the coincidence."

Reed nodded his agreement. "Next, here's a folder with Krutin's known contacts here in Phoenix. The folder is full, but there were only eight contacts. Four are in federal prison and two are dead. The other two are wanted by the FBI but still at large. Their mugs and rap sheets are at the front. Now the search for them has doubled."

Nancy nodded. "Good. Where is Krutin now?"

Reed's voice was grim. "After Jake and Corey's operation went up in smoke," Nancy grimaced at the pun, "Krutin hasn't even been a blip on the radar. Even his known higher-ups have vanished."

Nancy's frown deepened. "I don't like it. We all know he made it out of the building."

Reed nodded somberly, and continued. "Lastly. We used some facial recognition software on the security tape, isolated a picture of everyone present, and then ran the pictures against mug shots in the Arizona database and our own. The software isn't perfected yet, but we got three preliminary hits."

He passed her another folder. Before she opened it, a question she'd forgotten immediately surfaced. "Were there any overlaps between Krutin's contacts and people at the dance club?"

"No," Reed answered. "That's the first thing we looked for."

Nancy flipped the folder of rap sheets. The first mug shot seemed to bore straight through to back of her head.

"Damn," she muttered. She flipped up his picture to read his sheet. _Arrested once for sexual harassment. Released after case was settled outside of court. _She showed the picture to Reed.

"This guy approached us last night; he asked me to dance. I did. He asked about my scar and the rest was just charming small talk."

Reed frowned. "This guy is slime; that's what his sheet tells me. What kind of a read did you get on him?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not a threat. Maybe a charming swinger, but not a threat. But he did approach us. Jake and Corey were both sitting there when he asked me to dance. I agreed because I knew it would be good for cover and because I knew that there were five other pairs of eyes watching Jake and Corey."

She looked Reed in the eye. "What are the odds that when he approached our table last night, he was just doing what he apparently does best?"

Reed scratched a bit of his graying hair, then crossed his arms. "No way to tell for sure. Probably about 50/50 at this point. I'll have someone tail him."

Nancy gave a frustrated sigh. "So nothing we've found—besides the blaring absence of Krutin—points to trouble. Maybe even this perv sent the email to me. But all that aside, it's too big of a risk. I want arrangements made to move Jake and Corey by the end of the week. To a safehouse, and then to a new location with new identities. Get the ball rolling for me, Reed."

She spent a moment delegating responsibilities to those beneath her, then she stood on a chair. It was almost 5 o'clock. She whistled sharply to get everyone's attention.

"Thank you everyone for your hard work today! I'm leaving now to brief Corey and Jake of the situation. You all have your assignments! Follow up on them and report back to me. You know my cell—call any time day or night if you find something important. Thanks again everyone for your hard work today! And yes, you may now leave the room," she finished with a tight smile.

They applauded her briefly, but no one moved to leave. They continued working long after she left.

XXX

Right at 6:00, a knock sounded at the door of the apartment. Joe practically leapt from the couch in desperation.

"Please be Al... I am SO bored!"

Bomb shoved him away from the door, grinning slightly. "Easy, Core. Away from the door." He looked out the peep hole before opening the door.

Nancy blew into the room, carrying boxes of Applebees food to-go and juggling a few movies on top of that. Bomb shut the door behind her.

"A little help?" she suggested, eyebrows raised, amused.

All three guys sprung to her aid, spreading the goodies out on the table.

"Thanks, Bomb. You can go now."

Bomb shook his head to get his shaggy surfer bangs out of his protesting eyes "But--"

"Yes, I brought you some food. Now, go." Her order was barked through a laugh, which, to Frank, sounded very forced.

"Great! Thanks, Drew!" he hissed, shooting her a thumbs up with his free hand. He checked the hallway before leaving.

Now that her physical burden was lifted, Nancy sank into a chair at the table as Joe began the task of unpacking the food. Frank slid a cup of coffee across the table to her, hand lingering.

"Long day?"

She almost smiled. "I don't doubt that yours was worse," she murmured over the coffee. He was a little distracted as the steam formed a veil over her eyes.

She was preoccupied. That was not good. "What spooked you, Ali?" Frank asked quietly. Joe stopped what he was doing, and sat down to hear the answer.

Nancy took a deep breath, straightening her posture. She locked eyes with Joe, switching to Frank every once and again.

"Last night after I left your apartment, I checked my email. In my inbox, there was a message from a known IP addressed used by our pal Vlad and the Robinsons. The email was in Russian—two words: Let's dance."

She went on to explain all that she'd learned that day; Frank and Joe listened intently as their food went cold. No one noticed.

"And even though there are no conclusive leads linking the kid in St. Louis or the guy from last night to Krutin, I'm moving you guys to a safehouse at the end of the week while your new identities are put together. I'm sorry."

Joe heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't apologize, Al. It's nothing you did."

Nancy shook her head forcefully but did not reply. She glanced at Frank to see his reaction.

Unlike Joe, who was obviously already not looking forward to being back in a safehouse in the middle of nowhere, Frank looked more concerned than resigned. His eyebrows were knit together in a typical Hardy fashion, and he was biting his lip so hard that it was white beneath his teeth.

"What's wrong, Jake?"

He glanced up, pensive. "Were you ever put in Witness Protection, Alice?"

She frowned. She worked this unit because she was good at it, and because she knew Krutin's habits firsthand. But there was another reason. She'd always known.

"I still am."

Frank stared, not making the connection.

Nancy sighed, rubbing her eyes. Frank suddenly realized she probably hadn't sleep at all since she got that email.

"Why do you think I was transferred from Organized Crime into the WPP? Why do you think I also go undercover with you?"

Joe's eyes widened. "They're protecting you, too."

Nancy looked away, defiance lighting her eyes. "The FBI needs me because of my experience with Krutin. They can't afford to put me in the program to disappear for years. But they also need me alive, and working OC wasn't the way to go. So I was transferred into this unit so that they could keep me alive and pick my brain at the same time. Notwithstanding the fact that I'm very good at my job."

Joe smiled tightly at that.

Frank's eyes were wide now. He wished he knew what happened in Pittsburgh... oh, he wished. "Could the email "Let's dance" be some kind of threat to you and not to us?"

Nancy shook her head after seriously considering the question. "No. The FBI considers me to be on Krutin's hit list, but no one, including myself, thinks that I'm in immediate danger. His fixation on me is not violent. It's more like curiosity. He likes to taunt me. The email may be one from Krutin himself for that very purpose, and he may have no clue about the two of you.

"His MO is solid—when people come close to nailing him, there's usually a threat or an attempt within the month. You two are in more danger now than me. I'm alive after four years. You've only had two weeks."

She sounded so confident that Joe was convinced. Frank still carried a frown, but nodded.

"Being under me doesn't put you in more danger. It makes you safer. Trust me."

That was fairly easy to do.

All that said, they began the task of eating their dinner. Frank noticed that Nancy was exhausted, but even so, remained alert. There was a bit of tension between Frank and Joe that Nancy picked up on immediately.

She guessed she knew what that was about. But she made no attempt to broach the subject. In fact, she kept the rest of the conversation light, talking about how they might amuse themselves during the next few days of Level Four security.

"I brought a bunch of movies that I thought you guys might like," she said, jerking her head towards the Blockbuster bag on the table. "I know how boring it gets on Level Four. And the safehouses are worse, so try to find ways to entertain yourselves. If you like, I can set up another call to your parents tomorrow."

They both thought that would be a good idea. After dinner, they settled down to one of the movies, an Indiana Jones. Nancy was struggling to stay awake; Frank wished she would just relax, but she wasn't just hanging out with them; she was on-duty. It was midnight now... she probably hadn't been off-duty since last night.

Frank's nightmare was still fresh in his mind, as was his talk with Joe. He had so many questions, felt so betrayed... he opened his mouth to whisper something to her when she stood.

"Guys, I'm barely awake. I'm going to call Ray in to take my place. I'll be over in my apartment if you need anything."

She locked eyes with Frank, and when he lifted his brows in question, she looked away.

"Good night! I'll come tomorrow morning to make up for today."

As soon as Agent Matthews arrived, she retreated.

Joe glanced up. Ray was an almost invisible presence; silent, watchful. She was friendly in person, but she was on duty.

Confident of that, Joe turned to his brother.

"Well?" he hissed expectantly, his voice lost under Indiana's theme music. "Are you just going to sit there?"

Frank didn't answer. He was already walking towards the door.

XXX

_How's that for an emotional cliffhanger? Bam! Well, guys, your response is appreciated! This chapter took ages to write. Next chapter, as you might be able to tell, is going to be huge—lots of important stuff. _

_Thanks so much for reading! Please review! _

_-rosa_


	10. Day 11 Part 1

_Well, everyone, I just posted the previous chapter last night, but here I am, beginning the next almost immediately. We're coming to the section of scenes which I've written and rewritten over and over again. I hope its what you've all been waiting on. And though I'm beginning this chapter right away, it will probably not be posted until later because this chapter is so important, I'm going to be very particular about it. ;-)_

_And now, here we are._

_Be forewarned: this chapter is not for the faint of heart._

_-rosa_

To Protect and Serve

**Chapter 9: Day 11**

When Frank clenched his fist and sent it forward to knock, it missed. The door opened before his fist could make contact.

He looked down at the woman there; for the first time since they met on the plane, Frank noticed that Nancy was about four inches shorter than him. But she always seemed so much taller, just by her presence. His look into her eyes held a question.

"I knew you would come," she said softly, stepping aside so he could enter. He did so, slowly, unsure of what he wanted to ask but certain of what he wanted answered.

She shut the door behind him, and took her time fixing every latch and finally, the deadbolt. When she turned around, she looked... vulnerable.

"I just had the room checked for bugs. We're clear."

He realized something; she was letting down the wall she'd had up for so long. He felt his heart begin to pound. She took a seat next to him, looking straight ahead, exhausted but suddenly wide awake. One white hand gripped a steaming, fresh cup of black coffee.

Yes, she had known he would follow.

"Ali..." Frank's voice cracked, and his hand lifted off his knee for a moment, almost to touch hers, but fell again. "You let me in to your apartment, but you're still keeping me out. Why?" The final word was worked with agony.

She didn't answer the question. Instead she took a deep breath, and began to talk slowly, her voice soft, ominous, lyrical.

"It was raining that night. It's always raining. We'd planned the sting for months; my partner Max was deep undercover, and tonight was the first night we bugged him. We had a drug trail and a morgue full of dead dealers and a few innocents. Our evidence was circumstantial; we needed a confession. They didn't suspect Max at all. It was going to finally happen.

"I was the only female agent in the operation; my job was clear. I had to get in to the mob boss's favorite bar, the Knetka with Krutin himself to gather the recorded evidence, and there was only one way to do it. I was watching the bar from the restaurant across the street, waiting for his limo to arrive. When it did, I left my table at the restaurant, and approached Krutin. I was wearing a teal evening dress; very expensive and very revealing. All intentional. I had a gun strapped to my leg if something went wrong."

Frank slowly leaned back into the couch, watching her face as she recited the story. She avoided his eyes and her eyes focused on something straight ahead as she plowed on.

"I approached him. He liked what he saw, and I knew it. He said, 'What is an exquisite lady such as yourself doing alone on a beautiful night?'

" 'Looking for a handsome man to take me home with him tonight,' I said. He asked my name, called me _baboyka. _I introduced myself as Clarice, and then I asked him, 'Is it true, what they say about you?' And just like that, he responded, '_Da_, madam, every word.'

"It was going to be so easy to get information from him. I would follow him into the bar and get him talking until the warrant arrived. And then the entire team would come in; no one would leave the building. We _had_ him."

Her voice twisted painfully. The cup in her hand was liable to break and cut her. Frank gently pried it out of her hands. As soon as the cup was gone, Nancy's fingers curled into tight fists, her white knuckles shining.

"I slipped my arm into Krutin's. He escorted me to the door, opened the door for me. I was about to step in, felt his arm fall around my shoulders when a voice from behind us shouted, 'NANCY!'"

She stopped for a moment, breathing hard. She hadn't been talking fast, but he guessed the effort of erecting the emotionless front was was causing her fatigue.

"Who was it, Nan?" Frank asked quietly, but he feared he already knew.

A single tear made it through her blank eyes. "It was Ned. He was in Pittsburgh on business. I didn't tell him I would be there, and his business there had come up on short notice. I didn't tell him about the case; it was top secret. My father didn't even know about it. Ned saw me in that dress on the arm of a stranger and immediately assumed the worst. He... blew my cover."

Frank sucked in an apprehensive breath. With Krutin, the story could only get worse.

"I didn't turn around; I didn't acknowledge him. But I was the only woman around. Krutin realized what was going on instantly. Before I could say anything or get my gun, Krutin whirled on me, putting a gun to my head. His henchmen on either side of him held Ned at gunpoint. He looked stunned, confused, but stood absolutely still, holding his hands in the air.

"Krutin might be a criminal, but he's no fool. 'Clarice,' he whispered in my ear, 'who is this young man? And why did he call you Nancy?'"

"Ned realized that I was undercover. He realized that he'd just blown a sting...He desperately tried to fix it by acting like he'd mistaken me for someone else. It was a good try."

"I told Krutin I'd never seen Ned before. Ned knew better than to get his feelings hurt in that moment. I was trying to keep him alive."

Frank winced.

"Krutin didn't fall for it, of course. 'Are you sure you've never seen him before, Clarice?' he asked me. I nodded aloofly. But when Krutin moved the aim of his gun from my head to Ned's, I reacted. I elbowed him in the ribs, and the shot he fired went into the sky, harmless. When he doubled over, I kicked him to the ground, and yanked my gun from under my gown. 'Freeze!' I screamed. 'FBI!' I jumped on top of him, put my gun to his neck."

Frank closed his eyes, allowing the scene to play before his eyes. He didn't like what he saw.

"'Nancy Drew, isn't it?' he asked calmly, from below me. 'I heard about you when I was in Chicago last. I didn't know you'd joined the Bureau.'"

"'This is just me and you, Krutin,' I said tersely, watching the guys holding Ned. One had a blade against Ned's throat, waiting for Krutin's word. "'Let him go; you can have me.'

"The other agents were practically panicked. I could here them in my earpiece, trying to decide what to do. The search warrant for the Knetka had cleared but they obviously couldn't execute it with a hostage situation. And a civilian hostage took precedence. They couldn't very well just storm the club without risking a hundred lives. In the end, I knew they were waiting for an idea from me. I had none."

"'Clarice, please tell your fellow Agents to stand down. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your friend. Believe me, my men have no qualms about killing him.'

"Ned shook his head no, but the guys holding him had a knife to his neck. When Krutin glanced at them, they pressed it against Ned's throat until it drew blood. He didn't make a sound, just glared at Krutin. So, I called over the radio. 'All Agents stand down. We have a situation.' Situation in this case meant a hostage. Max was still inside; I didn't want him to blow his cover. So I added, 'Everyone please hold your present positions.'

"Krutin thanked me. Then he said, 'Now, Clarice, despite how pleasant our physical situation might be in other circumstances, I must request that you please get off of me so we can rectify this situation in a reasonable fashion. Besides,' he motioned for his thugs to bring Ned over. 'I believe I might have collateral over you, madam." When Ned got close enough, he mouthed, _I'm sorry._ I mouthed back, _Me too._' And I slowly got off of Krutin's back and stood up straight, gun still leveled at his head.

"'Let's all go inside, please,' Krutin said calmly, standing to his full height. He towered over me. 'After you, Clarice. And please, you won't be needing your firearm.' He took my gun but was so arrogant, that he didn't bother taking my ear piece or microphone.

"I glanced over at Ned. He shook his head no again, but the guys holding him wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat. And even if I shot Krutin right there, we'd all still die. Every man in and outside that club was armed. So, I gave him my gun."

"It was bad, Frank. I was thinking fast. The only other Agent inside the Knetka was Max, and he was deep undercover. We couldn't afford for him to blow his cover if another operation like this could succeed in the future. I spotted him when I came in but didn't acknowledge him. Krutin put my own gun to my back, and led Ned and me into the Knetka. The music was off, and the crowd cleared for him to pass.

"'Turn the music back on,' he said, almost gallantly. 'The party has just begun.'"

Frank began to realize that perhaps Nancy hadn't been entirely truthful with him; Ned obviously hadn't deserted her. He braced himself for the worst as she continued on, her voice monotonous, as if she was reading from a textbook. He found that his eyes were drawn to the long scar across outside her eye.

"He cuffed my hands in front of me. He cuffed Ned's hands to a chair. Ned didn't fight. He was waiting for my signal to make a move. And frankly, I had no idea what to do.

"Krutin left us for a moment to discuss something with one of his higher-ups. I could tell Max was trying to figure out what to do, but he didn't approach. In my ear, I could hear my squad trying to form a plan. The building was surrounded, but Krutin had the advantage."

"'Nancy, I'm sorry,' Ned whispered to me. 'I was just so surprised to see you, I didn't think...'

"'Forget about that,' I told him. 'Just relax and watch me, and we'll try to get out of here alive.'"

Nancy had been awake almost 24 hours, but she wasn't giving up on this story. Frank finally got up the nerve to reach over to grab her hand. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't pull away.

"Krutin came over to me. 'Let's dance,' he said to me. He was still holding my gun. He took my cuffed hands and put them around his neck, then let his hands rest on my waist, one still holding the gun. Ned started to struggle, but when a knife appeared at his throat again, he stilled. I shook my head at him. Krutin led me around the dance floor, talking as if we were old friends from college."

Frank recognized the phrase _let's dance_ from the email, but Nancy had seen the connection too, so he didn't bother to interrupt. She wasn't sure about the email's implications; that's why she gave the order to move them. He understood.

"As we were dancing, Krutin began to talk about how much he admired my audacity and cunning. He advised me not to do anything stupid, but I was trying so hard to think of something stupid to do that might just work. Agents were in my ear, trying to form a plan. I listened carefully, but they didn't have anything yet. Max recognized Ned; they'd met at the FBI's holiday banquet. Max was the only other agent besides me that realized how bad the situation really was."

Frank nodded grimly

"'What were you going to do, Clarice?' he asked me as we danced. 'Were you going to use your feminine charms to gently persuade information from me? And then your colleagues would storm in and arrest the others and myself?'

"I didn't answer him. He didn't care. He was slowly leading me back to where Ned was being held."

"'Clarice... it would have worked.' And then, without warning, he threw me to the ground and put his gun at Ned's heart. I tried to get to my feet, but three huge Russians grabbed me and held me still. I started screaming.

"Ned's eyes were strangely calm. His chin was high and defiant. Krutin stood still for a moment, then finally said to Ned, 'Is she worth it?'"

Now the tears fell unfettered from Nancy's eyes.

"'Yes,' Ned whispered. 'Of course she is.'"

"Krutin shot him. With my gun. Ned died instantly. Something snapped in me, and I screamed, and flew out of the thugs' arms. I attacked Krutin, kicked the gun from his hand, then jumped on him. I got in several kicks and hits with my cuffed fists before his thugs pulled me off of him. He stood slowly, brushing off his tuxedo. He didn't bother getting my gun from the ground. Instead he pulled a knife from his coat, and put the tip of the blade at my cheek.

"'You won't ever forget me, Nancy Drew,' he whispered in my ear. He kissed my cheek, his lips right against the blade. Then he slowly pushed the blade into my skin and pulled it upwards, cutting a gash into my face. 'You'll see me every time you look in the mirror.'"

Her finger trembled as she traced the scar.

"The room was absolutely still. My partner Max was the only one moving. He started inching his way to me, sneaking up behind Krutin as if he wanted a closer look.

"Krutin walked over to stand by Ned's body. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a very small jar. Inside was a Russian Tent Spider. This spider is fairly large. Black with brown and white patterns. It won't bite unless forced, and even then, the bite has no effect. But every time Krutin murdered, he left one of these spiders on the victim as a trademark. So he took the spider, and dropped it into Ned's hair, then turned to me. Blood covered one of my eyes, but in the other, his toothy smile was a clear as day.

"'Clarice, I am impressed. But I can't let you come this close again.' Krutin picked up my gun and aimed it at my kneecap. It wasn't a fatal shot, but it would be a painful, crippling one. He didn't want to kill me. But, when Krutin fired, Max dove at me, catching my legs in a flying tackle, sending us both to the ground. The bullet barely grazed his arm, and I screamed into my radio for backup.

"The room was suddenly flooded with Agents. Krutin's voice boomed over everything, shouting in Russian to retreat. But before he disappeared in the chaos, he stood in front of me, getting his face close to mine. 'I hope to see you again, Clarice,' he whispered. He dropped the keys to the handcuffs at my feet, then simply strolled out a back door in the chaos."

Nancy paused to take a breath. She didn't bother to wipe her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on something Frank could not see.

"The FBI managed to make a few arrests, but none that were worthwhile. Krutin and those directly below him all escaped. The FBI got Max and me and Ned's body out of the building before any cameras arrived. My name and Ned's never appeared in the stories about the sting. No one in the Bureau leaked and none of the Russians did either. The FBI had enough power then to cover up the information it wished to. No names of Agents made the paper and Ned's involvement was top secret.

"Ned's death and my injury were reported as the results of a random mugging. To this day, that's how everyone believes he died. Rumors about what happened in the Knetka to Max and to me are all over the FBI but no one really knows. And Ned's death was a small tragedy that only made a quarter of a page in the River Heights paper."

Frank felt tears on his own cheeks as he absorbed what Nancy had just confessed to him.

"Oh, Nancy..." he whispered, wanting so much to pull her into his arms.

But she wasn't finished. Her voice cracked for the first time, and she whispered through her tears the final horror.

"We were engaged."

Anguish for her threatened to choke Frank._ All her dreams, all her hopes, the chance for freedom died with Ned,_ Frank realized, his grip on her hands tightening. _Murdered by Krutin._ Now Nancy was forced as an agent into the Witness Protection Program indefinitely—until Krutin's death or arrest. She couldn't transfer or resign because the minute she did, she'd be put in the program as a civilian. Remaining a WPP agent was the only way she could have any shred of control.

When he looked at her, Frank knew that Nancy had loved Ned. But he also knew she'd finished grieving for him long ago. The problem now was not letting got of Ned... it was letting go of Krutin. The desire for revenge had been eating at Nancy Drew for four long years.

"I can help you get him, Nan," Frank whispered, catching her eye. "Please. Don't shut me out of this case. And don't lock me out of your life."

Her composure had returned, but her hands were still trembling just slightly. "Jake." He wasn't Frank anymore, or even Fitz. He was Jake again. "This is different." Her eyes held longing and so much sadness. "We aren't teenagers pretending to be a couple so we can return a lost artifact to a family friend. We can't flirt for a while then, as soon as the case is closed, go our separate ways. We aren't trying to solve a mystery; I'm trying to keep you alive!"

"No, Ali, you're _killing_ me!" Frank shouted, standing and grabbing her shoulders. Her face paled instantly. Frank mimicked his brother and knelt before Nancy, not caring what her agents would see on the camera. "It's been 10 long years since we've spoken to each other, and by some act of God, we're together again, and it's like we're _still_ not speaking! And I can't take it, Alice. I can't."

Nancy stared into his eyes. "Jake, I'm protecting you. My agents don't know that I knew you before. I can't--,"

"Tell me you aren't in love with me!" Frank demanded suddenly, his grip on her hands tightening. His eyes bore into her and she felt more vulnerable than she ever had.

"I can't..." she whispered, suddenly gripping his hands. His eyes started to brighten with hope but her tears returned. "I can't risk you, Frank. I lost Ned. I can't lose you, too."

He let that comment be for a moment. Instead he let go of her hands, and leaned in close to her face, letting his hands rest on her waist. He could hear her sides shaking in beat with her pounding heart.

"You're wrong, Nan," he whispered huskily. "This is a mystery. The same mystery I've been trying to solve for years."

He moved a hand up to her face, touching her scar, touching the corner of her lips with her thumb.

"You."

Just as Nancy could feel his breath on her trembling lips, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. A spider. Dangling from her doorknob.

_As she turned to leave, a large spider crawled across the floor._

_Frank was amused at first when Nancy blanched and yanked at his arm, hissing, "Ugh, Jake, kill it!"_

_He did so, stepping on it surely._

_She turned back to him with a shaky grin, but Frank's amusement faded when he could clearly see her racing pulse pounding in her pale throat._

"_I hate those things," she whispered, laughing breathlessly._

_Then, like a dream, his face appeared before the nose of the plane. Ned. As she came closer, she could see him. Standing, patiently, always waiting on her, his eyes sparkling like diamond. But then, the plane rebelled under her hands. It wobbled in the air, then began a dive. She pulled up, but the stick came out into her hands, useless. She was plunging down, but still, out the windshield, she could see him. Suddenly, a spider was crawling on him, into his hair, and he turned away from her with anger in his eyes, disappearing into the black clouds._

"_Krutin walked over to stand by Ned's body. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a very small jar. Inside was a Russian Tent Spider. This spider is fairly large. Black with brown and white patterns. It won't bite unless forced, and even then, the bite has no effect. But every time Krutin murdered, he left one of these spiders on the victim as a trademark. So he took the spider, and dropped it into Ned's hair, then turned to me. Blood covered one of my eyes, but in the other, his toothy smile was a clear as day."_

Before Frank's lips could find her own, Nancy reacted,tackling Frank and sending them both hurtling over the arm of the couch to the ground.. A second later, her front door exploded.

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_Please review._


	11. Day 11 Part 2

**To Protect and Serve**

_Wow. 200 reviews after only 10 chapters. And this is my first story in the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Universe. I'm giddy and amazed and stunned. ;-) I can't thank everyone enough for all the support and encouragement and constructive criticism. I'm indebted to you all._

_Well, everyone. I hope I managed to throw in a surprise or two last chapter. And I hope this one keeps you on your toes. _

_-rosa_

Day 11 Part 2

When an explosion close by hurled Joe to the ground, Agent Matthews was on top of him before he knew he was down. His head smashed into the wall, sending the room spinning and his ears ringing. But he could make out Ray's whispers into her hidden microphone.

"Drew, what happened?"

Silence.

"Drew? Drew, do you read?!"

Joe was close enough to Ray's ear to hear the static. His heart began to pound. Ray sucked in a breath.

"Everyone, prepare to execute escape plan K. I have Corey. Andy, bring a car to the fire exit. Go-Go, Bomb, get on either side of hall on the other side; Jake and Drew are in trouble. JJ, circle the parking lot and keep your eye out for them or the Robinsons. Andy, call Pop to meet us at the K safehouse. Everyone to your positions. Go."

She quickly stood, scanning the room. The power was out, and a thin layer of smoke was starting to seep in under the front door. "On your feet, Corey. We're out of here."

Joe stumbled as dizziness overcame him. "I can't leave them," he managed, feebly protesting her. But then the shrill fire alarm sounded, and he doubled-over, clutching his ears. Ray continued to push him towards the fire escape.

"Back up is headed their way. Besides, you have a concussion. Now, go."

Joe obeyed, physically incapable of resisting as the Agent led him out the fire door, down the fire escape stairs, and pushed him into a car. Somewhere between his shoulders hitting the seat and the door slamming, he blacked out.

XX

Nancy opened her eyes, ignoring the ringing in her ears, and the throbbing in her muscles. She was barely aware of the warm blood on her back. But she could feel Frank beneath her, could feel his heart pounding, his breathing on her skin. Any other time...

She was absolutely still, listening. She heard his breaths. She heard the whispery cackle of stray flames. She turned slowly to glance at the huge, smoldering hole that had once been her front door. It was empty. Smoke and moonlight hovered around it.

She didn't know where the enemy was. Outside, in the room, at the fire escape. She didn't know. But she knew she had to get Frank away from this building. Now.

She could hear Ray in her earpiece.

"Drew, what happened?"

"10-23!" Nancy hissed. But Ray couldn't hear her.

"Drew? Drew, do you read?!"

The explosion must have destroyed her microphone. But she could hear Ray call escape plan K. She had to get Frank to the fire exit.

Before doing anything else, she checked him. He was silently awake, seemed unharmed. Her body had shielded his from the onslaught of flying debris, but she didn't have time to account for her own injuries. She didn't feel them. She didn't feel anything but deep, nauseating urgency.

"Frank, hit your panic button," she hissed, pulling him to his feet. He was staring at her, stunned, but he obeyed. He fiddled with the hands on his watch, and when the button appeared, he pressed it. She was pushing him away from the front door, towards the fire escape in the back.

"Joe?" he croaked suddenly.

Nancy waited, listening to her agent's communication before answering. Frank realized that her microphone had been damaged when she didn't bother talking. After a few agonizing seconds, she answered. "He's safe."

The fire alarm went off.

Frank was slowly climbing out of shock. He kicked open the fire escape door and waited, as if Nancy would go first.

"Sorry, Frank. Your chivalry will have to wait this time." She pushed him through the door and as he climbed the stairs down, she saw the car waiting. Ray was armed, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching for movement. She nodded when she saw Nancy.

Nancy pulled out her own weapon, and turned the other way. Ray was covering Frank's way down the stairs. Gun in front of her, Nancy crept back into the apartment.

Ray saw. "Damn it, Drew!" she muttered.

Frank's feet finally touched the ground, and he turned, expecting Nancy to be climbing down after him. She wasn't there.

"Nancy!" he hissed, furious and terrified. But before he could go after her, Ray swept into him and shoved him into a car before he could blink. She slammed the door behind his feet, then pounded twice on the hood. With that, Andy sped off, wheels screaming.

"We can't leave her!" Frank yelled savagely, giving his unconscious brother a concerned once-over. "You have to protect her too!"

Any pulled into traffic on the Interstate, flying and weaving through traffic.

"Drew is still the lead agent. And even if Ray called escape plan K, Drew wrote it. And she wrote that the two of you are top priority, before her own welfare. Besides, the other Agents are going to help Drew." _If she lets them_, Andy thought to herself grimly. "Check on Corey. I'm going to turn on the radio feed."

Frank listened as crackled voices spun tiny bits of the horrifying tale. But the one voice he wanted to hear was silent.

XX

The power had gone out. Smoke hovered at the top of the room. A fire was slowly gaining strength in the apartment around the door. The fire alarm was blaring in her ears, but she blocked it out.

She had to know how she had failed.

None of her agents could hear her. She could here them. Their scratchy voices were tense, ready.

"The building is being emptied. Fireman and cops will be here in less than a few minutes," Bomb grated tensely.

"Drew went back into the apartment. I've got her back, coming up the fire escape." Ray answered.

"What the hell is she doing?" Gates' voice wondered.

Nancy shook her head. No, no her agents wouldn't protect her from this. Someone from the Russian mob, maybe even Krutin himself had put that Russian Tent Spider on her doorknob. And someone had planted an explosive in her wall. She had to know how it could have happened, how she could have missed something so huge.

"Bomb and I are outside, closing in. The hall is clear. No one's exited the apartment. But the living room is on fire."

"The fire exit is clear. What is she looking for?"

It was pitch black in the apartment. There was an eerie orange glow seeping from the door to the living room. It was just enough light for her to see the door to her bedroom, still slightly ajar. She walked hunched over; the smoke was slowly filling the apartment.

She looked at her bed. She hadn't slept in... days? She couldn't remember. She ignored it's mocking presence, and hurried into her closet.

She shoved the clothes aside, revealing her computer, and cameras and radio equipment, miraculously undamaged. In fact, they were still running, backed up by a generator.

"Thank you, God," Nancy murmured absently, falling quickly to her knees before the equipment, setting her gun aside. She quickly opened the video feed from the camera right outside her door. She rewound it slowly, coughing as blurred images of people went by. She pulled her shirt above her nose and mouth, never taking her eyes off the screen of her laptop.

Someone paused for too long at her door. She stopped the film, and watched. Someone was fiddling with her door, wearing the uniform of a security guard. From a distance, it looked like JJ.

She glanced at the time in the corner of the feed. This was very late the previous night. She'd been at FBI headquarters, ordering everyone around. And the agents at the apartment had been deadly focused on Frank and Joe, not her apartment.

The man stopped what he was doing, and straightened. He looked left, then right. He paused, then looked upward, and stared directly into the camera. And he smiled.

Nancy could feel the color drain from her face. For a moment, the fire, her agents, the explosion, her bleeding were all gone, and she was staring into the eyes of the man she'd danced with so innocently a few nights ago.

He'd asked about her scar.

She shook herself back into reality, eyes watering as the acrid smoke burned them. She had to get out of here. She reached for her gun.

It was gone.

Before she could process that information, a calloused hand shot from the dark around her mouth, yanking her roughly against a hard body. Her eyes narrowed and she prepared to elbow her attacker but suddenly she felt a needle pierce the skin on her neck, and something seared into her veins. Suddenly dizzy and weak, she stumbled backwards, swinging feebly at him. Her attacker let her fall, and she hit her head on the wall of her closet. She heard the used syringe clatter to the ground next to her. She looked up to see a wolfish smile on the same face she'd seen on the camera before everything dissolved into blackness.

X

Frank's knuckles were white, his fists tight. There was a long silence on the radio, but suddenly, Bomb's voice cut into the soft static.

"Guys, I bet she was going after the surveillance equipment in her closet!"

Ray's voice responded. "I'm on it. Cover the exit."

Frank wanted to vomit. He'd let Nancy slip through his fingers. He'd let her run back into a burning building where someone who wanted to kill all three of them could be hiding. And now her agents couldn't find her.

"Drew!"

Suddenly, a shot was heard over the air, followed by a feminine cry. Frank grabbed his chest, feeling his heart skip a beat. The sound actually woke Joe, who shot groggily into a sitting position, then groaned immediately at the sudden movement. He listened, holding his head.

"Go!" Gates cried.

A moment later, Gate's voice came through the fuzz. "Ray is shot! Someone has Drew! I'm in pursuit! JJ, try to head them off, he's coming down the fire stairs!"

"I'm grabbing Drew's laptop. She had to have come back for it for a rea—shit!" There was a pause, then Bomb's voice returned. "I just found a syringe on the floor of Nancy's closet. Drew's drugged."

Frank glanced at Joe; his expression looked just as grim as his own.

JJ interrupted him. "Got him! He put Drew in the trunk, and they're driving off! I'm in pursuit! Brown sedan, no tags."

"All right, JJ!" Gates now. "Don't lose him! I got you on my GPS; I'll cut him off. Bomb's pulling out, he's taking Ray to the ER."

"This guy's crazy. We're flying through the residential roads at over 90. I'd ram him, but Drew's in the trunk!"

"Just stick close! I'm coming in from the east."

"I see you!"

"This guy's insane! Good thing its too late for cars to be on the road."

Instinctively, Frank checked his watch, but instead he was confronted by the depressed panic button. Nancy ordered him to press it, but she was the one they need to track. He grunted in frustration, then turned to the car clock. It read 2:48.

"Where's he think he's going? The road's are empty, he'll never lose us."

"I don't know. I don't know. But Drew's drugged up in the trunk of that car. We can't risk shooting out the tires or ramming it."

"Maybe if--- SHIT!"

The sound of screeching tires and a sudden metallic crash boomed over the radio. Frank and Joe and Andy were silent for a moment, waiting.

"JJ! Go-Go!" Bomb's voice crackled back. "What happened?"

There was a long pause.

"Damn." Gates came back over the line. "We lost him."

"How?!"

"We were both right behind him," Bomb reported, his voice shaky. "He slammed on breaks. We both swerved so we wouldn't hit him— so we wouldn't rear-end him, since Drew's in the trunk-- and I crashed into a tree and Gates drove into a ditch. He's gone. Drew's gone."

"Damn it!" Frank yelled, angrily slamming the car window with the side of his fist. Joe winced at the loud sound, still holding his head.

"Relax, Frank," he murmured, still a bit dizzy. "We'll find her."

"Rendezvous at the safehouse in an hour," Gates called.

Andy was watching them very carefully, narrowing her expressive Asian eyes. She remembered seeing Agent Drew suddenly drive off with Corey for no reason. She remembered watching the way Nancy laughed when Corey spun her around the dance floor. She vividly remembered noting the electricity between her lead agent and Jake—who's real name was Frank, apparently—when they'd danced together. Andy remembered seeing Nancy and J—Frank in a passionate discussion just before the door had exploded and she'd lost her video feed. And now, Frank seemed much too concerned, much too rattled by the disappearance of an FBI agent he'd met only two weeks ago.

"You guys knew Drew before, didn't you?"

The sudden, bold question from the most soft-spoken in their detail startled the pair for a moment. Frank was too overcome to answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, we've known her since high school," Joe answered quietly. "We used to solve mysteries together as amateur PI's. My brother Frank here has been in love with Nancy for years."

Andy stored that information away, listening as she took an exit off the freeway. She checked for tails; they were clear.

"We lost touch during college. Frank and I joined the NYPD. A few years later, we get put on Krutin's case. We go undercover. Long story short, the sting fails, Krutin torches the building trying to kill us, and we end up in the WPP. When you guys picked us up from that safehouse in Maine... that was the first time we'd seen Nancy face to face for almost ten years. She didn't tell you because she didn't want any of you to be forced to give up our identities."

Andy nodded. It made sense. Everything made sense now. "So... what are your identities?"

Joe tried to smile, but it faltered. "Frank and Joe Hardy, at your service."

Andy's eyes widened slightly. "Wow. The Hardy boys. I used to read about you guys."

Frank tired of the conversation and interrupted. "Where are we going? We have to go after Nancy!"

"Calm down, Frank," Andy said firmly. "You and I both know Krutin does not want Nancy dead. He's obsessed with her. We have some time, and we have to regroup. Besides, Ray's been shot and your brother has a concussion."

Frustrated beyond words, Frank clenched his fists. He had no idea where he was, where he was going, or where Nancy was. He only knew she was unconscious in the trunk of a car and he was not with her.

He'd been so _close..._ she'd almost opened up to him, but in the end, she'd shut him out yet again.

She loved him; he knew it. She would have kissed him. He felt his eyes filling with tears of fury and worry and frustration... and he could hear her voice. Calm but tense, firm yet amused.

"_Sorry, Frank. Your chivalry will have to wait this time."_ She'd almost smiled.

Frank punched the window of the car, not feeling the blood run down his knuckles, not hearing the shatter or Andy's shout or Joe's curse, not seeing anything but Nancy's half-smile in his mind's eye.

XXX

_I hope you enjoyed it. Please review._

_-rosa_


	12. Day 11 Part 3

**To Protect and Serve**

_My sincerest thanks go out to all who reviewed. Your continued support and encouragement and constructive suggestions make my day over and over again. Thank you!_

_-rosa_

Day 11 Part 3

_She was floating in some kind of swirling semi-awareness. Occasionally, she felt her body jump and land limply when the car hit a bump. She was nauseous. And dizzy, even if she couldn't see. She'd hit her head and been jolted from full unconsciousness into this hell. When she felt the tugging back into oblivion, she could not physically resist. She imagined Frank's face and sighed back beneath it all._

_X_

Joe crossed his arms, regarding the shattered flower vase somberly. The plain wall of the safe house was now stained with dirty water; the vase had been empty save the uncertain liquid.

It was very rare that Joe ever had to step in and reign in his brother's emotions. Frank was the calm brother, the rational one, the one who held in his emotions and maintained composure. But the moment they'd been bodily escorted into the cold, unforgiving safe house, Frank had grabbed the nearest item his anxious hands could find and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattering reverberated harshly around the empty room.

The crash had made Joe's head pound; he'd instinctively covered his sensitive ears, feeling the vase's impact at the pit of his churning stomach. When he felt steady again, he opened his eyes.

"Frank, you have to calm down. You aren't doing Nancy any favors by losing it."

"Damn it, Joe, if I'd only made her go first down the damn stairs! She wouldn't have gone back in!" Remains of the tears he'd silently shed in the car still sparkled in his bloodshot eyes.

Joe snapped. He couldn't bear to see his older brother like this anymore. He stood, however shakily, and got right in Frank's face, yelling, "Well, she did! You can't change that, Frank! So get it together so we can FIND her! We don't have time for you to feel guilty and throw stuff like some kid, okay?! This is not about you! It's about her! So grow up!"

For a moment, the two brothers stood, tensed, their faces only inches apart. Finally, Frank sighed roughly and took a step back. An instant later, Joe sank back into the chair, replacing the icepack to the back of his head.

Frank raked a shaking hand through his hair, resisting the urge to grab and pull. _God, I just got her back. Don't let her do anything stupid._

XX

Special Agent Reed Shuler felt the wheels in his head turning much faster than the wheels on his car, even as the speedometer crept past 90 and the blurred landscape of Phoenix was left behind.

While he had been trying to track down a few leads at headquarters, Nancy had managed to get drugged and kidnapped. Just knowing that she was vulnerable in the hands of Krutin made Reed want to vomit. He was terrified for her, felt his fear growing with every exit sign he passed on the freeway.

He didn't fear for her death. At least not in the near future. Ever since the night in Pittsburgh where Nancy had dressed like a high-class whore and seduced trust out of Krutin, he was entranced by her. He didn't care that she was an FBI operative. Krutin remembered that Nancy had been beautiful, cunning, and fierce. He must have gotten some kind of perverted pleasure in murdering her fiance before her eyes.

Ray would have a better handle on how much time they had before Krutin hurt Nancy. Unfortunately for everyone, Ray had stumbled upon Nancy's abductor in her attempt to drag Nancy from the burning apartment, and whoever it was shot Ray point blank, then proceeded down the fire escape, dropped Nancy into the trunk, and drove off. Ray had been the only one covering the fire escape stairwell, and he'd had a clear escape path with her down.

Reed knew exactly why Nancy had run back into her burning apartment. The moment that explosion had ripped through the walls, she would have felt as if she had failed. She'd take the infiltration personally and be driven by a need to figure out what her mistake had been. In Nancy's mind, the only answer would be that she was culpable.

She'd been in her closet, where she had a small control room. No doubt she was quickly trying to access video feeds to see where the breech in security had occurred. Somehow, someone—maybe the same person who'd planted the explosive, maybe not—had gotten inside her apartment and _knew_ she would return for the video evidence the moment her charges, Jake and Corey, were safe.

Krutin no doubt knew Nancy well enough to make such predictions. He'd been a constant, silent presence in her life for the last four years. Though they only met face to face once, she knew him better than most agents in the Bureau, and he knew her better than most of the agents that worked with her.

Reed sighed harshly.

Andy called. She said that the identities of the men they were protecting were Frank and Joe Hardy, and the moment she'd shared that, Reed had wanted to kick himself. He'd felt every one of his 57 years and a few of someone else's.

Frank and Joe Hardy. In the old days, given a beer or a day off, Nancy had mentioned them several times. Particularly Frank. One night, Reed had found Nancy at a local bar that was notorious for attracting cops. That day, she'd been a member of a failed op. Whoever they'd been trying to sting had escaped, wounding two agents. She wasn't wounded, nor was her partner Max, but yet, here she was, alone in a bar, drowning herself.

_When Reed found her, four smashed beer cans were lined up neatly beside each other. Four bears for someone with Nancy's slender frame was plenty, but she was working on a fifth._

"_Nancy!" he admonished, taking the fifth can from her fists. "Come on. These things happen sometimes."_

_She ignored him, but didn't fight for the beer._

"_Ned called to bless me out for not being in town for his parents' anniversary," Nancy murmured, arms folded on the counter in front of her._

_So, it wasn't just her first blown op. Relationship troubles. "You didn't tell him about today."_

"_No. No. I didn't know about their anniversary. I forgot, I guess. I was leaving the hospital after checking on Blake and he called."_

"_He yelled at you?" Ned wouldn't have meant to make Nancy's awful day worse, but she wasn't forthcoming about her job. He wouldn't have known any better._

"_No. No. Ned doesn't yell. Ned never yells. He just says things like I really wish you had come, and my parents really missed you, and your father even stopped by, but we understand." She finally turned to look at Reed. "He never blames me."_

_She sounded as if she was complaining. Reed frowned, puzzled, as she babbled on, her words slurring together a bit._

"_Frank didn't do that. He didn't patronize me. He'd tell me if I made a mistake. He'd yell at me if I took too many risks. He would tell me when I was wrong. I want Ned to be angry with me when I deserve it, like Frank."_

_Reed's eyebrows shot up. He glanced around to ascertain if anyone that knew Nancy was around to hear her drunk talking about an old flame that she hadn't seen in years. _

_It wasn't the first time she'd mentioned him. But it was the first time she'd compared him to her fiance. Her finance to whom she'd been engaged for years but had yet to marry._

"_Come on, Drew," he said quietly, gripping her elbow and holding the small of her back to steady her. "I'll drive you home."_

After Ned had been killed, Nancy had never mentioned Frank again and hadn't gone on a single date to speak of for years. Some men at headquarters wondered how the Ice Queen had managed to get red hair. Nancy had ignored their comments and lewd advances and even genuine interest from any guy, all the while seeming completely uninterested and unconcerned with the issue.

Until now.

No wonder Nancy had been so uptight about protecting Corey and Jake. They were two of her closest friends. And Frank... well. Reed understood everything now.

Frank and Joe were well know in New York City as their local fame had overflowed from Bayport into the Big Apple. Frank Hardy was one of the go-to guys for forensic linguistics in NYC. Perhaps he could get something out of the coded message they'd intercepted two weeks ago.

Perhaps if she'd been guarding two strangers and the same thing had happened, she wouldn't have been affected enough to return to the burning apartment. Perhaps not. The stark reality remained that once again, Nancy Drew was in the hands of the Russian mob and at the mercy of Vladislav Krutin. The last time that had happened, she'd come out with a gash in her face, a shot partner, and a dead boyfriend. Already this time, she was drugged and in the trunk of a car, a building was burning, and an Agent was shot.

The safehouse was close. Reed floored it.

XX

_Someone pulled her from the trunk of the car. Through the drugged haze, she could feel the muted protest of her cramped limbs at the movement. Her arm dangled limply, and her head fell against an iron arm. The hands were smooth, careful, almost caring. But they weren't Frank's. She wanted to open her eyes, wanted to clench her fist, wanted to feel her gun between her trembling fingers, but she could barely feel her fear._

XX

"Agent Bombay?"

Bomb jerked when he heard his name, almost sending the laptop in his lap to the floor. He scrambled and managed to save it from a fall, feeling the stares of the others in the hospital waiting room on him. He shut the computer and rose to meet the doctor.

"How's Ray? Did she make it?"

Dr. Elmgreen was a short portly man with graying hair and a friendly smile.

"Agent Matthews is going to be fine. The bullet in her shoulder was high enough to miss her heart and lungs and low enough not to nick her collar bone. However, some muscle tissue in her shoulder was damaged. As soon as the wound heels, she'll need to have a few sessions of physical therapy to help."

"Oh, good." Bomb was relieved for a moment, but it was fleeting. "We were on assignment, and we need her. Is there anyway she can be released now?"

Dr. Elmgreen nodded. "I thought that might be the case. In fact, Agent Matthews insisted that she not be put under. I gave her a local and removed the bullet, cleaned the site, and stitched her up. I gave her antibiotics to fight infection, so she can leave immediately. But I highly recommend getting the wound looked at again as soon as possible."

As soon as Ray emerged from the hall, Bomb stood again. She looked a bit sallow and wore a sling and the same bloody shirt she'd been wearing before, but she was alert. "Come on, Bomb. Let's go. I'll drive." As he went to protest, she cut him off. "No, really. You work on Drew's laptop. We have to know what she saw."

"Fine. Man, you're stubborn, even when you have a gunshot wound. Sheesh." His complaining was complemented by a wry smile.

On the way, they were tensely silent in the car save for the tapping of keys on the laptop. After only ten minutes on the road, she heard Bomb suck in a sharp breath and pound the window in frustration.

"What?"

"She locked me out. I'm going to have to hack into my own boss's computer."

"Under the circumstances, I don't think she'll mind. But why would she lock out other Agents?"

"Good question."

XXX

**Some place where the sun was coming up, spilling crimson over the horizon, Vladislav Krutin sat in a comfortable chair, studying his best adversary in her weakest moment. **

**Special Agent Nancy Drew was lying on the couch in front of him. Her ankles were tied together, and her knees as well. Her hands were bound behind her back and rope looped around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides. She was bruised from the ride over, but he'd set her head gently on a pillow. The blindfold was tied securely but gently; he'd taken care to keep her hair smooth beneath it. She was sleeping off enough sedatives to knock out a man twice her size.**

**For four years, he'd planned. He dug into her life, learning everything he could about her, biding his time until he could meet her again. This day had been the making shortly after he'd left her bleeding and weeping and cursing in Pittsburgh.**

**In the room, the blood-red sunlight crept through the window and glinted off the gun resting patiently on his mahogany desk. He recognized that gun. It was the same model. Even had the same serial number. It was the same gun. Why was it not locked away in an evidence storage building in a plastic bag? How could she bear to carry it with her, even now?**

**She was strong; he admired that. But he would break her slowly, and he would enjoy it. No one in the FBI would come near him again after her body was delivered.**

**He would ask her about the gun later, perhaps, he thought, a smiling slowly curling his lips over his crooked, but perfectly white teeth.**

**Finally, finally, everything was complete.**

XXX

Soon, Frank's dedicated pacing was interrupted by Reed's arrival. The old man was hardly through the door when Frank grabbed his shoulders intently, demanding, "Do you know something?!"

"I know who you are," Reed offered dryly. "And I know that Ray is going to be fine and is on her way here. In fact, she's driving. Bomb is hacking Nancy's laptop—apparently, she didn't even trust us because her computer is littered with encryptions and passwords."

"_Doesn't,_" Frank corrected tensely from where he leaned against the wall.

Reed turned his attention to Joe. Joe was leaning over with his head in between his knees, holding an icepack to his head. He was awake; his death grip on the ice pack turned his knuckles white.

"Joe, do you remember what happened?"

His response bordered on slurred, a tad snapped. "Yeah, I do. The wall exploded and then Ray slammed the car door, and then we were listening to the radio and Nancy never talked."

Reed's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Frank.

"How long was he unconscious?"

Frank thought back, latching on the chance to focus on something other than Nancy's predicament.

"He was out when I was pushed into the car. He woke up when Ray was shot. A few minutes, maybe." It had seemed like an eternity, though.

Reed sat down by Joe, suddenly alarmed. He was showing all the classic sign of a bad concussion: confusion, irritability, holes in his memory, nausea, headache. "He should be in a hospital for observation," Reed said quietly to Frank.

Joe's head shot up. "No way. It's a stupid bump on the head. Nancy's been kidnapped by people who are doing God knows what to her, there's no way I'm going to a hospital."

"It's not necessary."

Frank turned to the new voice, relieved. Ray was bloody and pale, but wore a sling and the bulk of her bandages could be seen under her blouse.

"Thank god," Reed said, standing. "Dr. Matthews, look him over, please."

Though she was a forensic psychologist, Ray had of course been medically trained in all areas in medical school. As she began to check Joe's pupils and perform other tasks, Reed and Frank turned to Bomb who shuffled in behind her. Andy, Gates, and JJ were keeping the surveillance perimeter on the safehouse.

As Ray looked Joe over, Reed reached into his pocket, removed a wrinkled piece of paper and unfolded in slowly. Nancy would kill him later for involving them... if she got the chance. With that morbid thought, his mind was made up.

"Frank... I intercepted this message from the Russians. It's coded somehow, but the computer can't break it. It's not an algorithm they've used before. I believe this is from Krutin himself, and so did Nancy."

Frank took the paper. "How did you know I did linguistics?"

"Drew told me. She's told me a lot about you."

Frank considered that for a moment, wishing he had the luxury of enjoying the idea of Nancy talking about him often. "Are you asking me for help? I'm a civilian."

Reed crossed his arms. "You're Frank Hardy," he said simply. After a moment, he added, "Besides, I'm just asking you to look at a coded message. We're not talking about any more that that."

"Yet," Frank barked. But he took the paper, and retreated into another room.

An hour passed agonizingly slowly. Bomb was working on Nancy's laptop, trying to bypass the beefed up security she'd put on it, and Frank was staring at the coded message, rearranging letters and finding patterns. In the other room, Joe was resting under Ray and Reed's supervision as the other Agents guarded the house.

The door creaked, and Bomb shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. "We got him," he said simply. He turned Nancy's laptop so Joe and Agents Shuler and Matthews could see it, showing an enhanced image of the man who had smiled into their security camera.

"That's the guy Nancy danced with at the swing club," Joe realized groggily. "His hair was different and his eyes were brown and he's shaved, but its him." Immediately Reed turned to grab his briefcase for that file.

XX

In the other room, Frank suddenly saw a pattern he hadn't seen before. He watched as the letters rearranged themselves in his mind, writing them down. When he finished, he dropped his pencil in shock.

"No...!"

XX

Frank burst through the door, holding the paper, now covered in writing. "I broke it the code!" he shouted, shoving the paper into Reed's hands. He stopped short when he saw the computer in Bomb's hands. "What is that?"

"This is what Nancy last accessed," Bomb informed him, rotating so Frank could see the image. "Recognize him?"

Frank stared at the image, feeling his blood run cold. It was the man Nancy had danced with at the club. But without his disguise... the man's mustache was gone and his dark, bushy hair was gone to reveal short dirty blond hair. He hadn't noticed the resemblance at the club. And he'd been distracted by the fact that Nancy had been dancing with the guy.

"Dear God," Frank breathed, his voice barely audible. "How could I have missed this?"

Joe glanced sharply at his brother. "What?"

"It all makes sense now. The message, the bomb, everything." Frank tore his eyes from the screen ignoring everyone in the room except his brother.

"Look at him, Joe. We've seen him before. Not long ago."

Joe stared, then the blood slowly leaked from his face. "Oh, god. That's the FBI agent that was undercover that night. He got us out of the burning building, saved our lives, hooked us up with the WPP."

"He's a double agent. He has to be. He saved us from Krutin, made sure we were put in the WPP, knew we'd be put under Nancy because of her experience with Krutin. They planned this whole thing. They've been after Nancy the entire time." His voice was becoming dangerously low. "When I decoded the message, it said--"

Reed read it aloud, his voice stunned. "**Follow the Hardy trail and find Drew. Bring her to me at all costs.**"

"Think about it," Frank urged, his voice laced with enraged urgency. "At the swing dance club, he doesn't even cast a glance to us. He singles Nancy out. And when the bomb went off at the apartment complex, it was in Nancy's door, not ours. If Krutin knew about our pre-existing relationship with Nancy, he'd know she'd be driven enough to go back after her laptop but only after Joe and I were safe. He _used _us."

Frank wasn't lost in his guilt and despair anymore. He was angrier than Joe had ever seen him, his face red, and his fists clenched furiously.

"If that's true," Joe said, eyes wide, "then he must have found out who we were at some point when we were undercover. Instead of exposing us and killing us right away, he must have run our names just to get background and found the connection we had to Nancy. And then, once he had that information, he staged the failed stakeout, not planning to kill us at all. He used this guy, the double agent, to get us into the WPP, knowing they'd assign us to Nancy."

Reed, Ray, and Bomb were hardly following, but the pieces were clearly falling into place. Bomb slowly took a shocked breath.

"That's why Nancy locked her computer!" Bomb cried. "She knew there was a double agent."

Reed shook his head to clear it, then looked at Ray.

"Ray, you're the forensic psychologist. You just finished writing Krutin's profile. What do you think? Do you think he's capable of this?"

Ray closed her eyes, her answer instant. "It's genius, cruel, perfect down to the last detail. It's not instant; it's so involved that it took over a month. Yes. Krutin could do this. In fact, I think he did."

"Oh, boy, Nan..." Joe breathed, rubbing his temples. "What we gotten you into?"

XX

_She slowly floated into an awareness, silently begging her senses to cooperate. She attempted to open her eyes, but found a blindfold. Instead of a harsh chair or a cold floor, she could feel a soft, plush sofa beneath her beaten body. She could smell an expensive cologne; the scent hurled her back to the _Knetka, _where she danced into bloody failure._

_She could hear someone breathing. Then, quiet, deliberate footsteps, coming closer but she could not move._

"_I know you are awake, Clarice," came the smooth, deep voice, slithering through her ears and sending chills through her hair. "I can see the pulse quicken in your lovely neck."_

XXX

**That's it for now, folks. Thank you for reading. **

**-rosa**


	13. Day 12

**To Protect and Serve**

_I almost hesitate to say that TPS is drawing ever closer to a close. I really cannot fathom that I've been working on this story for a year now. It's gone by so quickly; the response to the story has been overwhelming in its constructiveness and insight and generosity. I've been writing on the site for four years now (my anniversary was November 30th .), and this particular community has been my favorite to write in without a doubt. Thank you all for your responses, especially as this is my break-in story to the fandom. But these characters have been dear to me since my childhood; it's been wonderful borrowing them._

_For the first time since beginning TPS a year ago, I've allowed myself to think past it into the tentative future. As some of you know, I had two Law and Order: SVU stories in progress that I put on hold when my muse grabbed me by the collar and dropped TPS in my lap. After I gulp finish TPS, I owe it to my readers over there to take those two up again with renewed fervor. However, I've enjoyed writing in this genre so much, that I don't think I can stop after one story. Now, don't get any ideas about a sequel to TPS; I haven't thought nearly that far ahead. I'm just saying... it's very likely this is not the last you'll see of me. ;-)_

_We'll just have to see what happens, gang. Thanks for everything!_

_-rosa_

Day 12

Frank was wearing a new track into the dull carpet of their safehouse, pacing back and forth irregularly in protest to the maddening clockwork that the FBI Agents refused to abandon. Joe was dozing off the lingering effects of his concussion under Ray's watchful eye.

The silence was going to drive him to distraction. Only two agents remained in the house with them at the moment, though they continued to rotate every few hours. Now, Gates and Anderson were huddled next to each other, crowding Bomb's laptop, with Nancy's nearby.

"_There has to be a way to track her," Frank had insisted, much too loudly. "She's FBI; she was being protected! You can't tell me you gave us the watches but she has nothing?"_

"_She does," Reed inserted calmly. "She had a feminine version of your watch, and several other accessories with homing devices that cue into our GPS systems at headquarters and send an automated alert over all radios in range. But the watch and the other accessories all have to be activated like yours. If they ran constantly, the batteries would run out. So, for Nancy to be able to help us, she's going to have be conscious."_

"_Do we know for sure she was wearing it yesterday?" Joe had mumbled over a glass of water. _

"_She always wore the watch and usually wore another piece as well. So, we can only hope that once she wakes up, she'll activate the homing device so we can stop this."_

_Frank's eyes had narrowed at Ray's choice of words. "Why would we have to hope? Why wouldn't it be a certain thing that when she wakes up, she finds away to signal her location to us?"_

_Ray had looked away, her face becoming impassive. _

Gates was on the phone with someone at the closest headquarters, reporting for what seemed the hundredth time the description and identifying marks of the car in which Nancy had last been seen. Andy was using the highway and direction the car had been driving and comparing the many possible destinations with known hideouts of Krutin's and homes and businesses that were known to be indebted to the Russian mob. She worked efficiently, never yawning as she compiled her list.

Gates' conversation shifted; now he discussed tracing materials used in the bomb from the apartment complex.

It was twilight out, but he couldn't be sure if it was dawn or dusk. He'd lost track of the hours long ago.

"_What is it, Matthews?" Frank had demanded harshly. "This is Nancy's life we're talking about! Why wouldn't she call for help?"_

_With a furious sigh, the African-American woman exhaled stiffly and crossed her arms, one arm folding cautiously over the one in the sling. "I could lose my license over this," she warned, but her proud posture slackened. "But I'll tell you. I was counseling Drew."_

Frank wanted to pound something like the blood was pounding his head. He sat down next to his brother, leaning back and clenching his eyes shut for a moment before adrenaline shoved him back to his feet and into motion. How he longed to call his father or Carson Drew for advice... for a damn reference! He could do nothing to aid Nancy but be the good witness and obey his protective agents. But he and his brother were never really targets! And yet, he was benched. He wanted to rip his hair out from frustration.

"_Counseling her." Frank repeated. "About Pittsburgh?"_

_Ray had looked at him sharply. _

_He nodded. "Yes, she told me everything."_

_Ray let one hand fiddle with her chin, as if puzzled or surprised by that admission. He wasn't sure which. "Well, yes. About Pittsburgh. I counseled her for years about it so it wouldn't destroy her. Things like that are resignation or even... suicide material."_

_Frank gulped, feeling the blood fall from his face._

"_But Drew was not suicidal in the least. True, she had—and still deals with—some serious guilt issues about her fiance's death. But she grieved for him. And though it took years, she accepted his death. And her role in it. She may never be truly over it, but in my professional opinion, she dealt with the loss and moved on. It was a struggle and took years... but she did it."_

_When she stopped, Frank's eyes narrowed. "Go on," he had ordered quietly._

Joe rolled over; his eyes snapped open, then closed furiously again. He buried his face into the cushion of the couch. "It wasn't a nightmare," he grumbled. "We're still here; Nancy's still not."

Frank shot his brother a concerned once-over. Satisfied, he commented. "Don't remind me. They won't even let me help. I'm a damn cop, but they won't let me do a thing."

Joe sat up, gaging his brother's manner, choosing his own words carefully. "Frank, there's not much to do yet. The agents are following the leads we have. There's a nationwide APB out for that FBI agent, an alert on the car, and Gates is working on tracking the bomb components. HQ is watching the movements of Krutin's known resources and sitting on all his known hideouts. We don't have a lead on her location. As soon as we do... I'm sure they'll let us in on this."

Frank crossed his arms. "I'm not so certain," he answered darkly, sitting down again beside his brother, staying this time.

"Nancy's been in scrapes like these before," Joe reasoned, rather feebly. "She's always come out okay in the end."

_Ray had struggled for a moment with the ramifications of breaking client privilege. But in this instance... surely..._

_She thought of the syringe, of the gunshot, of the pain in her arm, and the sight of Agent Nancy Drew slung limply over a man's shoulder._

"_She wanted revenge on Krutin!" she'd blurted finally. "She struggled and struggled with it, but she could never put it behind her. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill him because under the law, it's the punishment he deserves, but he was never brought to trial."_

_Frank was too stunned by that confession to remark on it... it made too much sense..._

_Joe had recovered faster, wondering candidly, "Why wouldn't the Feds bring Krutin to trial for Ned's death? Nancy and Max witnessed it; his fingerprints would be on the gun..." but then his eyes widened, and he answered his own question. "The FBI wouldn't dare call Krutin to trial for Ned's murder because they covered it up. The death of a hostage on the FBI's watch would be incredibly bad press for the Bureau and might destroy Nancy's career. But I'm sure she wouldn't put that above justice for Ned."_

"_No," Ray agreed, nodding her head. "She wouldn't. But the FBI hit her with a gag order and transferred her to WPP. Besides, the gun was stolen from the evidence vaults the day of Nickerson's funeral. Now I'm inclined to think our double agent lifted it for Krutin. Almost of minute of security feed was missing; he would know how to do that plus he'd have access."_

Frank looked at his brother, saw the frail hope in the eyes so much like his own and shook his head. Joe sighed.

"No, Joe, I don't think Nancy's ever been in a situation like this."

The fact that Vladislav Krutin was Nancy's captor would have been terrifying enough; the fact that Krutin had a disturbing attraction, even obsession with her... the thought of what he had planned for Nancy, even if it didn't involve her death, sent Frank into a cold, heart-racing sweat.

He stood again to renew his pacing but instead, went into the sad thing called a kitchen to get his brother something to eat. As he fumbled around, his mind wandered.

"_Nancy would have access, too."_

_Joe, Reed, and Ray had all turned to stare at Frank._

"_Think about it. You just said she wanted revenge. What better than to kill Krutin with her gun, the gun that he used on Ned?"_

_Ray's gaze flew to Reed's, eyebrows sharply raised in question. His eyes were wide, the crows feet there slightly distorted. "She was cleared because of the date. It was the day of Ned Nickerson's funeral in River Heights," he stammered. "She was there; there are pictures! The gun was in an evidence vault 300 miles away!"_

_Frank had allowed his gaze to settle on the older agent. Despite all the circumstances, Frank cocked an eyebrow, quirking something close to a smile._

"_Come on, Shuler. We're talking about _Nancy Drew._"_

Remembering his words from only hours ago gave him hope but also terrified him. Nancy Drew was resourceful, intelligent, determined. Those qualities could help her but in this situation, they could also destroy her.

Frank didn't know what meal to fix. He had no clue what time it was. His watch was still set on 10:10. He settled on breakfast, deciding that it was fitting, since Joe had just woken up.

Nancy Drew might have known when the bomb in her door exploded that Krutin had come for her. And she had returned to the scene. Nancy Drew had almost helped capture one of the most powerful mobsters in the world. Nancy Drew had witnessed her high school sweetheart's murder and now had the murder weapon in her possession and years of festering guilt and anger within her. Her future, her life hung in the balance. If Krutin didn't kill her, she might very well kill him and thus, cause her own destruction. She was already drugged and hurt. And he was God knows how many miles away, helpless.

His grip around the frying pan tightened; he glared as the eggs bubbled from the heat.

In those last moments, he'd held her close as she described the worst day of her life. He'd gripped her hands and demanded she admit that she loved him. It was wrong of him, he realized now. She'd just told him about her first love's grisly murder, and he'd wanted more than a confession that the old spark was still there.

Still, she'd nearly kissed him. But then, the door exploded, and she tackled him and shielded him, and that moment they'd desperately needed was stolen, and Nancy with it.

Frank clenched his fist around a glass cup and threw it across the room, relishing the shatter. A moment later, he took Joe breakfast.

XXXX

"I know you are awake, Clarice. I can see the pulse quicken in your lovely neck."

Nancy shivered, dizzy, nauseous, and drowsy; her shoulders pulled at the ropes around her. The voice sounded just like it had in her nightmares. Perhaps she was dreaming.

"Rest assured, my dear; our rogue agent was swiftly dealt with for the overkill with the sedatives. I told him directly only to give you the bare minimum dose to ensure your cooperation, but I think he was frightened of you."

Though blindfolded and barely conscious, Nancy could easily imagine those lips curling back in a wolfish grin.

"Luckily, I have the resources to deal with the minor adverse effects, and you will be like new by tomorrow. Until then, I'm afraid our discussions and activities cannot begin until you are well. So rest easy, _бабочка_; hopefully the medicine will afford you a few beautiful _сновидения_, because when you next awake, I'm afraid reality will not be so kind."

She felt a pair of rough lips touch her cheek, by the scar. She shuddered with revulsion, feeling bile pooling at the pit of her throat. After a few deep breaths, the sensation was calmed slightly.

The cost of this interview was due already; she felt herself fading back under the drugs and gave in, dimly relishing that at least she was too drugged to be as terrified as the situation warranted.

"Sweet dreams, Clarice."

Her last coherent thought was a wish for her gun.

XXX

The hours dragged by at the safehouse. However, a phone call to Fenton Hardy was arranged. Frank thought of waking his brother, who had dozed off for what Ray predicted would be the last nap he needed to fully recover, but he decided against it.

He gave his father the Cliff Notes version of the story, leaving out for now Ned's involvement and Nancy's documented desire for revenge.

Fenton let out a breath that whistled slightly at the tail end. "Nancy Drew was your protective agent, and the Russians wanted her all along. Christ. Son, you know this is not your fault."

"The guilt is for later. Dad, I think someone needs to contact Carson Drew."

"Done. I'll fly down and tell him in person. I gather Nancy hasn't been in much contact with River Heights since her transfer to the WPP. For the time being, I agree with your Agent Shuler. Your mother and I will not reveal that the two of you are alive just yet; I think we can trust Carson with this information, but no one else." Fenton paused for a moment. "Son?"

"Dad."

"How are you handling all this? I know what Nancy once was to you."

"She always was. She still is. I'm going crazy. As soon as we have a lead, I'm going to have an argument with these agents that I intend to win; I want Joe and me to have involvement in this. We took vows, too, you know."

Fenton sighed, probably after noticing how much time had passed. "Good luck, son. Your mother, Carson, and I will be praying and waiting. Don't give up hope."

The dial tone groaned in his ear. Frank tossed the phone aside, glancing at JJ and Bomb; both were working grimly on the other side of the room. They had surely heard his declaration.

With every hour, Nancy's trail got colder.

XXXX

_Euphoric dreams evaded Nancy Drew. Instead, she found herself in a familiar dream world with the controls of a plane beneath her palms. But it was different._

_Then, like a dream, his face appeared before the nose of the plane. Ned. But she felt herself sterring herself away, away from his sad smile and his blood, into the horizon. His image became blurry, then vanished in the wind._

"_Alice in wonderland!" someone called. It was Joe, like last time. His grin shone in the sun. He sat perched on a cloud, arms crossed. He unfolded one arm to briefly wave to her, but she turned the plane away from him, pointing the nose towards the face that had haunted her._

"_Welcome, Clarice!" came a mocking voice. There he was! His image, wrapped in darkness, was there, below her. She tensed, and dropped the stick, sending the plane into a dive, straight for Krutin's arrogant smirk._

"_Nancy, no!" _

_She turned, twisting her body so she could see behind her seat. Frank Hardy was waiting. A parachute was strapped to his back, and his arms were open._

_She looked at him for a long moment, wondering. Finally, she gave him a smile and turned back to the controls, but instead of the stick, a gun was in her hands. She gripped it surely, feeling herself plummeting._

_She could still jump. The thought crossed her mind as the ground and Krutin's face got rapidly closer. _

"_Come,_ _бабочка. _Come."

XXXX

"Frank, wake up. We got something."

Frank's head shot up unsteadily and he nearly threw his fist out instinctively but caught himself halfway. JJ had already wisely stepped back, anticipating the reaction.

Joe stirred next to him, Frank saw, and when his brother had sat up from the couch as well, JJ locked eyes with them.

"The LAPD patrol just contacted HQ. They found the car and our double-agent."

Joe's eyes lit up. "Los Angeles? That close?"

"Five hours, but close enough."

Frank studied the agent. His dark, Hispanic eyes were hard to read. "Has the agent said anything?" But from the sudden stop of information from JJ, Frank could guess what the answer might be. And he was right.

JJ looked away angrily. "He's dead."

"Damn," Joe cursed. "There goes yet another lead."

"Perhaps not," JJ said, pulling up a chair in front of the couch. "It gives us a location. The LAPD and the LA division of the FBI both have their own experience with the Russian mob. At least now we have some direction."

Frank stood suddenly, briefly towering over JJ. When Agent Johnson followed suit, Frank was still inches taller.

"Listen here, Johnson," Frank began, crossing his arms and raising his voice a notch. "Joe and I aren't civilians. We're cops. So if you go to LA, we're going with you."

Johnson took a deep breath, bracing himself. "You're in Witness Protection. You're civilians now."

Joe stood now with certainty. "You and I both know Krutin doesn't give a rat's about us. He set us up. He never intended to kill us."

Frustration mounting, JJ tried another tactic. "You don't have jurisdiction."

Joe practically ignored that. "Let us in on this, or you have two very passionate and very skilled vigilantes on your hands."

JJ humphed back a bitter laugh.

"JJ, from the very beginning, Nancy told us the WPP could only help us as long as we cooperated. Well, from this point on, we're done with cooperating in the yes ma'am sense. We'll cooperate now as members of the New York Police Department working together with the FBI to extradite a wanted criminal."

JJ threw up his hands. "You're still dead in New York," he tossed out as a last resort. Bomb was approaching slowly, taking in the argument and talking quietly into his radio.

"But we're not dead at all. And at the NYPD, our motto is _fideis ad mortem_: faithful unto death. So until I'm actually dead, I will not break my vow to protect and serve the city of New York. And the city of New York needs Krutin behind bars."

Passion burned under Frank's words and shone equally bright in Joe's eyes.

Bomb grinned. "Ah, hell, JJ. Let's get the NYPD and the deputy director on the phone."

"All right!" Joe cheered, clapping Bomb and JJ on the back. "Screw this safehouse; on to LA!"

Frank allowed a small sigh of relief, then glanced at his watch out of habit. It still said 10:10.

"Push the button, Nan," he muttered, clenching his fists as the other Agents swarmed in to prepare. "Please. Let me in and push the damn button."

xxx

_Hope you enjoyed. And if I don't see you before then, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! _

_-rosa_


	14. Day 13

**To Protect and Serve**

_Hey, gang. I won't waste your time with blather. I hope you like this chapter; writing it was very difficult and extremely emotional. And it is rather long, so get comfortable. And be warned: this chapter is rated **M**__for violence. _

_-rosa_

Day 13

**11: 58 am Central Time**

When a plane from the FBI landed in front of the safe house, Joe felt a bit of de ja vu. When they boarded, he almost expected Nancy to come from the cockpit to greet them. But instead of being bodily forced into the plane like the President by the Secret Service, they hopped in of their own accord.

Joe Hardy had despised the politics of law enforcement in his days as a uniform-wearing, cock-n-fire rookie, but now, he appreciated it. Because of some long standing friendship between Agent Reed Shuler and the FBI's deputy director, their request to act in cooperation with Nancy's team in the rescue/arrest operation was not completely scoffed away.

When the situation was fully explained with emphasis put on Frank's help in figuring out Krutin's code and the NYPD's currently outstanding extradition order on Krutin, the deputy director, after informing and consulting Frank and Joe's captain, allowed them to join the operation in order to fulfill the extradition.

It had been a miracle and no mistake.

The plane was in the air now. Joe shot a glance over at Frank; his brother was brooding in the seat across the aisle, looking one or two unexpected noises away from snapping. The two of them were waiting while the Agents conferred at the other end of the plane. Part of the deal was the NYPD's complete cooperation with the FBI.

Last night, Frank had confessed his last words to Nancy before the explosion. Joe hadn't been able to speak for a moment afterwards; sure, he'd known Frank had always had Nancy under his skin, especially after breaking up amicably with Callie, but he never would have guessed his brother, Frank Hardy, would ever desperately order Nancy to deny she was in love with him. It was probably the most un-Frank action there was.

This entire situation had to be driving his brother up the wall. The short version was this: Frank meets Nancy. Frank and Nancy are both taken, but Frank and Nancy have fun, solve crimes, and dance around each other throughout their teenage years. Then college comes and Frank and Nancy lose touch. Frank becomes single, but Nancy all but vanishes into her job and never makes contact. Ten years have passed and suddenly, Frank is put under Nancy's protection. Nancy is a bit off; Frank finds out that a Russian mob boss murdered her high school sweetheart, the man she was planning to marry. But Nancy flirts back a little, dies his hair, goes swing dancing. But before they can kiss for the first time in a decade, the door explodes, Nancy saves Frank's life then gets captured.

Joe shook his head, remembering it all. And only two weeks had passed since they saw Nancy on that plane. He could hardly remember life before the safe house in Maine. Life when his brother covered his back when they took down murderers and drug dealers and when the weekend came, Joe did all in his power to trick Frank into going out on a date.

It seemed a little insignificant to wonder about Nancy's feelings toward Frank, however obvious they seemed to Joe. And it seemed pointless to convince Frank of her affections when she might not even be alive.

The thought was sobering. Joe sighed, and leaned back a little in his chair. He had his badge back and his gun was at his hip again, but it wasn't quite the end to his stay in the WPP that he'd imagined.

XXX

**2:32 pm Pacific Time.**

When Nancy opened her eyes after what felt like half an eternal sleep, the world remained dark. The silly blindfold was still there. For a moment, she listened, finding it much easier to concentrate than the previous time she'd been awake.

The only sound she could detect was the gentle hum of an air conditioner. No breaths. No footsteps.

Had Krutin really been fool enough to leave her alone?

The soft, smooth fabric of a sofa was underneath her, brushing on her skin. She grimaced, realizing that someone had removed her jacket before tying her up, leaving her arms bare. The thought sent a disgusted shudder down her back.

She began the slow process of analyzing her bonds, but first, she arched her back and turned her face into the couch, pushing the blindfold easily off of her head.

Yes, she was alone; if there were cameras in the room, they were well-hidden. She was in a study that could pass as a home office. Mahogany office furniture, expensive computer, a comfortable couch and chairs for clients or visitors. Soft maroon walls, windows with light gold curtains. Sunlight poured in from between the open blinds; the view told Nancy she was not on the ground floor of the building.

Ropes were knotted around her ankles, knees, wrists, and upper body. Her gun was gone, and her radio as well, but it had been damaged from the explosion and was useless anyway.

The explosion. She shut her eyes and paused her efforts to try and piece together the pieces of her memory.

She remembered the spider. And the explosion. And then she could remember jumping onto Frank and shielding him when they landed on the other side of the sofa. Then she vaguely remembered watching Frank go down a ladder, then watching some video feed on her laptop and then, nothing. She woke up here.

What had been on that video feed? Her frustration fueled her efforts, and she struggled harder against the bonds, ignoring the fiery rubbing on her skin.

The double agent. She'd recognized him first as the man who'd hit on her at the swing club. But in that brief second of acrid smoke and sweltering heat, she'd recognized him a second time, this time imagining different hair, glasses, and less weight.

At the swing club he'd been disguised. On her security camera feed, he was himself. And she recognized him as the one Agent Crawford who had been there when she picked Frank and Joe up from the safe house in Maine. And they said that an insider from the FBI had helped them get out from underneath Krutin's thumb alive. She just hadn't connected the dots! Crawford went with them to the safe house after rescuing them, and then handed them off to her! She remembered his words clear as day.

"_Take care of them, Drew! They've had it rough!" _

She recognized him as a double agent in that moment, and she'd locked her computer, blocking all access from agents.

Not minutes later, he'd attacked her.

Crawford showed up in the swing club. Danced with _her. _Singled _her _out. Put a bomb in _her_ door. Her eyes widened.

"They were after me all along." The realization was sudden, bitter, infuriating.

_Of course. When Krutin discovered Frank and Joe's identities after they'd infiltrated, he would have run them first to get background before killing them. He would have discovered their connection to me. It would have intrigued him, and he would delve into all the cases we solved in high school. He'd realize how close we were._

_And then, he knew, if he put a fake hit out on them after staging a near double-murder, that they'd be passed to me in the WPP because Crawford would tell him that I was considered the expert on Krutin. Crawford was there in Maine, making sure I was the one who make the pick-up. And he could have easily found out where we were going since he was FBI._

She rotated her wrists against the ropes, to feel if anything... yes, her watch was still there. But there was no way for her to adjust the time on it to activate the homing device with her wrists so securely tied, palms facing each other. She would have to wait until the clock hit 10:10 on its own; if she could pull the tiny lever stopping the hands when the time was 10:10, the panic button would automatically be revealed.

_Krutin used Frank and Joe to get to me. He waited four years, biding his time, making sure his double agent Crawford was secure and unsuspected. As soon as he gets me, he kills Crawford for giving me too much sedative. _

_He's losing his consistency, his patience. Now that I'm here, he's escalating. _Losing control!

Nancy stopped her struggles for a moment, and glanced around for a clock. In the corner, an expensive grandfather clock reported the time was nearly three in the afternoon. If she couldn't get her hands free, she faced seven hours of waiting while she was at Krutin's mercy.

The situation was suddenly much, much more dire, and it had sucked from the beginning.

But maybe... maybe Nancy wouldn't need to call for help. Perhaps she could escape her bonds and find her gun, which Krutin surely had recognized when he took it from her.

He knew her. He would know her intentions. But he was much too arrogant to believe she could achieve it; she would see it again before the night was through. Her eyes narrowed.

In this situation, she could kill him. She could kill him easily. Krutin wouldn't have any cameras in the house because he wouldn't want any recordings of his transactions to exist. They kidnapped her; she could say self-defense and no one would question her. No one would stop her.

Why had they kidnapped her?

She began to test her other bonds as her wrists were bound tight behind her back and pinned to her sides. Her ankles seemed a bit more slack, so she focused her efforts there, trying to squirm in such a way that the knots around her knees slid downward.

Frank and Joe were probably on the other side of the country by now, Nancy thought bitterly as she rotated her ankles around methodically, barely wincing at the rope burn. Probably under a new lead agent. She wondered if they knew, if any of her agents realized that the Hardys weren't in danger at all and never had been.

The FBI would probably organize some kind of rescue operation, probably at the request of her team, but Nancy wondered bitterly how much effort the bureau would make to find her. Four years ago, she'd caused the death of a civilian hostage and prompted one of the most extensive FBI cover-ups in history; if news had gotten out of the real dealings inside the Knetka, she would have been the FBI's biggest embarrassment.

Now she managed to get herself captured. In the FBI, that spoke incompetence. She'd done her share to help the Bureau, but she'd also been a bit of a wild card agent. But she was good.

They would try to find her. Maybe a half-ass rescue operation. But if she died, they could hail her as a martyr, and breathe easier since the truth behind Ned's death died with her.

No, Nancy would not expect help from the Bureau unless it came from her own team of agents. And she wouldn't expect that because they were still obliviously protecting Frank and Joe. For a brief moment, she felt her heart tighten a bit as she thought of the Hardy boys, her father, Bess and George, and the realization that she might never see them again.

_No. _Those speculations would make her weak. She'd never seen Ned again, and that was fact. He deserved justice, and the law wouldn't give it to him.

Unless she pressed the magic button tonight, Nancy knew she was on her own.

Nancy smiled, allowing a bit of reckless excitement into her eyes. Perhaps that was for the best. The FBI and their rules would only get in her way. The opportunity was here, with no civilian hostages, no cameras, no bugs, no Bureau, no man that she loved in danger and clouding her judgment. It was perfect, a perfect chance, and Nancy Drew would take it. She grinned in anticipation as one ankle slipped through the rope.

XXX

**3: 48 pm Pacific Time**

"Frank, Joe."

They rose and made their way to the back of the plane where their former protective agents were gathered.

"We just heard from the LAPD. They found a Russian Tent Spider in the Agent Crawford's hair."

Frank's eyes narrowed. "So Krutin killed Crawford personally. Why? Why kill him after he successfully delivers Nancy who was Krutin's objective for four years?"

Gates shrugged. "With Krutin, who knows."

Ray, on the other hand, frowned deeply. "It's disturbing," she insisted. "It's sudden, unpredictable, emotional. It's not cold, calculated, calm. Crawford took a shot through his palm and into his abdomen. That says he wasn't bound, he wasn't expecting it, and it wasn't a kill shot. He bled out. Krutin shoots to kill. Plus this murder wasn't rational; Crawford could still have been useful to him. This sudden impulsive and clumsy murder... I don't like it."

The other agents looked equally disturbed.

"So what's our game plan?" Joe asked, clapping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly.

"He's a ticking bomb," Ray continued, leaning back thoughtfully in her seat, scratching her chin with her uninjured hand. "We have to move fast. The LAPD sent over some preliminary crime scene data: Crawford went down from a .38. So even if we didn't have the spider, we'd know Nancy didn't kill him in some kind of scuffle or use his own gun on him because the FBI issues 9 millimeter Glocks. The .38 revolver happens to be Krutin's preferred weapon of choice. The car was found outside a motel in the back of a parking lot; Crawford dropped by the driver-side door, door was still open. He stepped out, Krutin shot him. He barely had time to throw up his hand.

"The trunk was open too. Faint traces of blood were found; blood type matches Nancy's. She must have sustained a minor injury from the explosion."

Frank closed his eyes, allowing the sensations of Nancy's body suddenly crashing into him, her arms suddenly enveloping him in a tight protective embrace, her breath on his face stopping short when she sucked in a wince of pain to all overwhelm him. Guilt hovered heavily over his heart.

"Other than the drug injection and the trip in the trunk, Crawford didn't hurt Nancy. He was apparently just a courier," Gates added.

"Then why whack him?" Joe wondered, plopping down into a seat, leaving his brother the obligatory task of pacing the aisle.

"I'm pretty sure the only way to figure that one out is to ask Krutin," Bomb muttered dismissively. "Anyway, when we get down into L.A., we hook up with the LAPD and the LA FBI office in a conference to determine our next move. One representative from each department goes to this meeting while all other personnel work on existing leads. Reed's going for our team; which of you would like to represent the NYPD?"

Joe glanced at his brooding brother. Frank met his gaze after a moment, his eyes solidly fierce. No way Frank would tolerate sitting in a conference while Nancy was in Krutin's hands.

"I'll go."

Frank nodded his morbid thanks.

"When we land, the rest of us will immediately begin to coordinate effort and information with the LA forces to try and discover Krutin's location. Because wherever Krutin is, Nancy is also. And he's suddenly very trigger happy," JJ finished.

"I don't think he'll shoot her," Ray inserted. "He'll draw it out. He's obsessed with her. At this point, I'm more worried about a sex crime or torture than a painless shot to the head. Krutin's been waiting on her for years, and now that he has her, his patience has snapped." Even Ray, a psychiatrist, seemed puzzled by the paradox.

Frank's intense gaze settled on the black woman, urgency burning behind his dark eyes. "How long do you think we have?"

Ray turned to face him. He knew she was shrinking him in her mind, evaluating his feelings for Nancy against his ability to be effective. She grimaced. "We need to find her tonight."

The flight agent came over the intercom. "We are now in Los Angeles; prepare for landing."

XXX

**6:04 pm**

Nancy stood, wincing as she stomped her foot lightly; in her struggles, it had fallen asleep.

She'd managed to shimmy out of the rope around her mid-section. And once her ankles were free, she'd pushed the rope around her knees off her legs and to the ground. For the past hour she'd been sitting on the floor, Indian style, rubbing the rope on her wrists against the angular edge of the mahogany desk. She'd searched the room for something sharp unsuccessfully. She didn't dare break a window for a shard of glass. No need to draw attention to herself if she couldn't fight back properly.

Her back and arms were killing her, but she continued, rubbing the ropes against the desk, wearing them down, loosening the knot. If she could see the knot, she'd know better how to attack it, but she could not and there wasn't a mirror to be found in the room.

This task was aggravating some kind of small gash on her back. She remembered feeling debris hit her back as she shielded Frank, but she didn't have the time to focus on it then. It wasn't bad. It hurt like hell, and she could feel a small stream of blood crawling down her back, but she ignored it.

Her energy was waning; just this minor task was making her breaths struggle, her heart race. She guessed it was because of the drugs. Or the fact that she'd had nothing to drink or eat in who knew how long. She wasn't sure what day it was.

The clock was her only companion. It now read close to 6:30. Would she press the button when the time came? She hadn't yet decided. It depended on Krutin.

Something caught her attention, and she stopped moving. Footsteps.

She stood shakily, stumbling on her numb foot. She walked back over to the couch and sat there, as if she'd been patiently waiting.

The door opened, and Vladislav Krutin entered. She immediately noticed her own 9 millimeter service weapon holstered on his hip next to his .38 revolver.

"Hi, _Vlad_," she drawled scathingly, locking eyes with him. "Been a while."

Krutin was over six feet tall. His dark brown hair had shoots of gray that matched his granite eyes. A neatly trimmed beard grew on his chin and a thin mustache graced his upper lip. His build was large, not all muscle, but certainly not at all out of shape. His teeth were crooked but perfectly white. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit minus the coat, giving his appearance a bit of refined casualness.

He sat in the chair across from her, letting one ankle rest on the opposite knee. He looked around the room, noting the ropes on the floor and the ones still binding her wrists. He smiled appreciatively, letting elbow sit on the arm of the chair, then resting his chin atop his fist. When he met her gaze, every muscle in her body tensed.

"You're quite right, my dear Clarice," he murmured with a smile. "It's been much too long."

XXX

**6:28 pm**

Frank fastened a new watch around his wrist, shoving the one with the eternal 10:10 in his pocket. The new one read nearly 6:30.

"Detective Hardy?"

Frank turned sharply as he entered the LAPD 21st precinct. He found himself squared off with a short, rather muscular man in a casual coat and tie. His accent was Siberian; Frank tried not to be immediately suspicious.

"Yes, that's me," he answered slowly, crossing his arms and sizing the man up. "I'm looking for a Captain Yuran."

"And that's me. Max Yuran at your service. I've heard a lot about you, Frank Hardy. I'm sorry we had to meet in these circumstances."

Frank frowned. Max?

"I was Drew's partner when I worked in the Bureau."

It clicked. "Right. She mentioned that you saved her from a crippling gunshot wound." Frank wondered if he should thank Max for that as well.

"Yeah. Too bad I didn't act fast enough to save her fiance. It never sat well with Drew that I took a bullet for her. Made her feel weak; she had a serious guilt complex about it, despite the fact that it wasn't a serious injury. I still have a serious guilt complex about not being able to do anything while that slime carved a slice into her face."

Max's dark brown eyes lit for a moment, and Frank found that he was grateful this man had had Nancy's back.

"What made you leave the Bureau?" Frank asked, as Max lead him, the other FBI agents, and a few LAPD detectives into a conference room.

Max scowled as he opened the door and held it there. "I couldn't be part of an organization that would cover up a cold blooded murder to avoid bad press. I resigned. Though my cover was blown in Pittsburgh, my identity was never revealed, so I was in no danger. I begged Drew to do the same, told her they treated her like shit and spat on her boyfriend's death. But she couldn't resign. She couldn't because they'd slap her into the WPP in a minute, but I knew that wasn't the only reason." His fierce expression mollified for a moment. "I haven't spoken to her in almost three years. She's driving herself up the wall in her work, and I think she's avoiding me because she feels guilty about the GSW I took for her. I hope when we get her, someone can talk some sense into her."

The fierceness returned to Max's angular features. He raised his voice to a level everyone in the room could hear. "All right, people. This operation is not for credit or for glory or for air time," he boomed as the various law enforcement officers found their seats. Everyone jerked a bit when Captain Yuran slammed the door shut. "This op is about getting a cold-hearted murdering mob-boss off the streets and doing it before he can kill one of our own. Now, everyone shut up, and let's get down to business."

"Detective Hardy from the NYPD and these special agents from the FBI, from Drew's team, are here to help. All right, crime scene crew, you're up first. Let's see what cards we have in our hand before we make the call."

XXX

**7:00 pm**

"All right, people, let's get started."

Joe settled into his seat, attempting to put his worry for Nancy on the back burner for a moment and concentrate. Reed sat next to him; the older man was usually very difficult to read, but Joe knew that he too was having difficulty focusing on this conference.

Joe forced himself to turn to the speaker, a Special Agent Flemming from the LA headquarters.

"I'm sure you've all been given the Cliff's Notes version of the situation we all find ourselves in. Here's a review. Detectives Frank and Joe Hardy of the NYPD were put in the WPP under Agent Drew's protection. Special Agent Nancy Drew is considered one of the FBI's experts on Krutin and the Russian mob. She's also a long-time friend of the Hardy's. However, two weeks into their first relocation, a bomb goes off in Agent Drew's apartment, she's captured, and a variety of discoveries led to the realization that Agent Drew was Krutin's target all along. Krutin used her reputation and her friendship with the Hardy's to set an elaborate trap for her. As for why? She nearly brought on his arrest four years ago.

"I don't want to hear any whining about jurisdiction or credit. The NYPD has an outstanding extradition order and arrest warrant on Krutin. And though he may have wandered on our turf, neither the LA FBI offices nor the LAPD have such orders nor the evidence to sustain them. So, we're going to work together to help Detectives Frank and Joe Hardy execute their extradition and arrest. And with the help of the Hardy's and the LAPD, the FBI is going to save one of our own. The whole country needs Krutin behind bars and tonight is the night."

Joe settled in. He realized this conference was about formality. Frank and the rest of the team were working on strategy and organizing information. He hoped the meeting was kept short so that he could get in on the action and bust Krutin before he or Nancy ended up dead.

XXX

**6:45pm**

Every nerve in her system screamed, "Run! Fight! Do _something!_" But Nancy Drew sat still on the couch across from a murdering mob boss as if in the parlor of a good friend's home, listening with politeness to the friend's accounts of their time apart.

"I hope you've been quite well these past years, Clarice," Krutin said, conversationally, reaching into his desk and pouring himself a modest glass of wine. "I've been following your career, looking into your past, trying my best to understand you during our time apart."

"Funny," Nancy responded smoothly. "I've been doing the same. What have you learned?"

His smile widened, revealing a few cracked teeth. He took a sip of his wine, tested it on his palette, nodded, and swallowed.

"Well, my dear, I've discovered a few things. I learned that you haven't been back to your condo in Chicago for a year and half. You haven't visited your father save on his birthday during this time. You've buried yourself into your work, haven't met up with friends or taken a vacation since our last meeting in Pittsburgh. You've been busy protecting and serving the Bureau."

She kept quiet, allowing him to talk, reluctantly allowing herself the embarrassment of stalling him.

"I also discovered that the men you were looking after on your latest assignment were old friends of yours. Weren't you glad you were able to see them again? After all, you were quite the trio ten years ago. Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys. What a reunion it must have been."

In the corner of her eye, Nancy noticed several large men gathering at the entrance to the study.

"Years ago, an unfortunate colleague of mine was put in federal prison, and he happened to get as his cell mate a man with whom I believe you are acquainted. I believe the gentleman's name was John Krieger."

Nancy lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"I learned that you and Frank Hardy once went undercover as a married couple at his request. Krieger said that the two of you played the parts well."

Nancy felt her eyes narrow, knew her face was turning red even as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

"And at this time, you were already devoted to that young man you introduced to me in Pennsylvania. Young Mr. Hardy must be quite the young man to charm you out of your loyalty."

Infuriated, Nancy let out a furious breath between her teeth.

"After learning all I could about you, Special Agent Nancy Drew, I knew that I must meet with you again. And even while I was trying to devise a way to arrange a rendezvous between us, I discovered Frank and Joe Hardy had infiltrated one of my organizations in New York. And the opportunity was perfect, my dear, perfect! If your precious FBI believed I had an interest in the Hardy men, they would surely put them under your protection.

"It was much too easy, you see, to stage a near-death experience for your friends. Agent Crawford was on the scene, you see, to make sure they escaped into the company of the FBI. I knew you would compromise your judgment to keep your precious Hardy men, your precious Frank safe. I admit, the knowledge made me quite jealous. I knew you would return for more information even after the explosion. Agent Crawford was doubtful, but you never disappoint."

"You've been my design these entire four years, baboyka," Krutin finished, smiling. "Don't you see? I know that even though you've been missing your father, mourning your unfortunate fiance, and dreaming of Frank Hardy, that I have still been the only man in your life."

Startled, Nancy opened her mouth to protest, but her words died in the back of her throat, strangled by a slow gasp.

"You see, it's true! I knew you felt the same way. You've put your entire life on hold, deserted your family and friends, and spent all your time trying to find me, just as I have you! Don't you see?"

At this point, Nancy was snatched from her shocked self-loathing by the slow entrance of several of Krutin's mobsters, all wearing very unpleasantly eager smiles. She turned her wide eyes back to Vladislav Krutin, suddenly trying all the harder to pull one of her hands free. Her eyes locked on her gun fastened at his side.

Krutin stood, looking at his watch. "Oh, my, I'm afraid we're quite behind schedule." He reached to the coat rack by the door and slid on his suit jacket, taking his time with the buttons. When he had finished, he straightened it, checked his reflection in the window, then turned back to her. The three nameless men gathered behind him in a semicircle; Nancy felt her heart begin to pound, sensing the adrenaline surging into her veins.

He knelt before her, being careful to seize her ankles before she could kick him. She refused to wince as his jagged fingernails cut into her bare skin; instead, she met his eyes defiantly.

He gazed into her eyes intensely, then smiled crookedly again. "I have a proposal for you, my dear Nancy Drew. And we will meet in an hour to discuss it. Until then, baboyka."

With that, he was suddenly on his feet, and his entire body weight crashed into her as he kissed her hungrily on the lips. Outraged and disgusted but quite pinned, she clenched her eyes shut and bit down as hard as she could on his lip.

He pulled away, and instantly she had two huge Russians holding her back. Though his lip was bleeding and starting to swell, Krutin grinned appreciatively, then laughed. Chills shot down her back.

"In an hour, Clarice."

Before he could leave, Nancy spat at his feet, seeing red. An instant later, a huge hand crashed into her cheek with such force that she fell from couch, landing awkwardly on her stomach knees and shoulders with no free hand to catch herself.

Though her vision swung and rogue tears threated to blur it further, she caught sight of the grandfather clock standing guard by the window.

**8: 15 pm.**

Frank listened intently as the LAPD described all the information they'd gathered; he leaned forward in his seat as they described the four locations Krutin was likely holed up.

"The security cameras in the parking lot of the motel caught the trade-off and the murder. We have Krutin himself on camera, shooting Agent Crawford, and moving Agent Drew to his vehicle, which is more than anyone has ever had before; like Agent Ray Matthews said, he's getting sloppy. We zoomed in and enhanced the image; Agent Drew was unconscious and appeared relatively unharmed. We have the DA's backing on this; she assures us that as soon as we have a definitive idea of Krutin's whereabouts, she'll have us both a search and arrest warrant no matter what. Apparently one of our local judges is a friend of Carson Drew. Whatever; we're not asking questions."

Captain Yuran paused for a breath, glancing out the conference room window to a room across the way. "On the other side of the building, we've set up a tip line. The video of Krutin and Drew aired on the 7 o'clock news and will air again at 10. Tips are flooding in, and a separate team is organizing them and throwing out the bullshit. If we get several credible tips that lead to one of Krutin's known hideouts, we're prepared to move immediately.

"Detective Hardy called Agent Drew's cell phone, and the signal bounced off towers around a highway that could lead to two of our prime locations. When he called it again a half hour later, the phone company's GPS said it hadn't moved. We think we it rang the first time, he threw it out the car window.

"Mike's gone out to meet a very nervous, very flighty CI in god knows where, and there's a chance that Agent Drew might be able to activate one of her panic buttons and give us her location at anytime. However, we can't wait for her signal or word from a shaky CI. Each of the four locations have plainclothesmen staking them out. Until we get word from any of these sources, we work with what we've got.

"To those of you on assignment outside the station house: if you find something, hear something, do not, repeat, do NOT act before you have called for back up. Our chances of keeping Krutin in our grasp and Agent Drew alive are greater if we have as many bodies on location as possible.

"You all have your assignments. Get out."

Frank shot out of his chair and surged from his chair. He nearly bowled over his brother who was just entering the precinct. "Come on, Joe!" he said, grabbing his younger brother's arm. "We're checking out one of the locations. Two LAPD detectives plus Ray and Go-Go are coming with us. I can't sit still for a minute longer."

Joe shook his head to clear out the remaining formality blather left over from the meeting. "What's our assignment?"

"Check with the the plainclothesmen there, canvas the neighborhood. We're going to a place on the outskirts of the city called the замерли лотос estate. Don't ask me if I pronounced it right, but according to Yaren, it means _frozen lotus_. I know that it was the old estate of a Russian immigrant who made it big with an obscure invention, but when his family line ended, the place went up for auction. It's generally accepted belief that Krutin purchased it under an alias. It's supposedly a huge mansion with a generous property, but it's close to a very upscale suburban neighborhood."

"Nosy rich people with nothing to do but spy on their neighbors," Joe translated dryly.

"Exactly. Let's see if anyone saw the gates of the Frozen Lotus open this evening."

XXX

**9:15 pm**

From her place on the floor in a crumpled heap, Nancy thought she heard the door creak open again. The heated discussion above her stopped.

"My apologies, Clarice. I'm afraid you incite powerful emotions in others besides myself. Be assured, these men do not control your fate tonight."

Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air. She jerked in surprise, curling into a tight ball and bracing herself through her foggy half-consciousness. Even so, she knew, even before she felt no bullet, that he was not aiming for her.

Startled shouts in Russian and clumsy, heavy footsteps sounded from somewhere in the room, but were quickly silenced by two more gunshots.

She felt iron, unfamiliar arms slid under her shoulders and knees, and however disgusted she was with that particular occurrence, at the moment, she was fighting to stay conscious and far from being able to resist.

For the first time in four years, Nancy allowed herself to be terrified of Vladislav Krutin. For years, she'd felt only anger and hatred, but tonight, tonight she was afraid.

He'd left her alone in a room with three huge men, no doubt to leave her something to think of if she refused whatever proposal he had for her. But then, when he returns to see they've been the crap out of her, he shoots all three. Just like one of his best assets, a double agent in the FBI, after successfully bringing her to him, was murdered for giving her too much sedative.

_He's a madman. And I'm going to die here._

She found herself grateful for one thing; Krutin had returned while his henchmen had been debating in Russian on whether or not to rape her, probably thinking she didn't understand the language. Oh, she did. He'd definitely not been unaware of the contents of their discussion.

The final irony was this: during her struggling and constant movement in the past hour, the ropes around her wrists had loosened enough for her to maneuver one wrist at an angle, just far enough to touch the tiny button on the side of her watch that would stop the hands. If she could hold out until 10:10, she could pull that tiny lever and the press the panic button behind her back.

She let her eyes close for a moment, flirting for a moment with the tempting darkness just beyond...

but she was jolted back to full awareness when she felt herself plop awkwardly into a hard wooden chair. Someone pushed her body forward, putting her head on her knees, then lifted her bound hands off her back and over the back of the chair, then slowly pushed on her shoulder until she was sitting up straight again. She opened her eyes, willing the room to stop swirling.

A nameless thug was looping duct tape around her midsection, effectively pinning her to the chair. He knelt and taped her ankles to the chair legs before she could summon the energy to kick him.

When he stepped aside, she surveyed the room. Dark, humid, lit by a single, flickering light bulb and a old clock's yellow glow... the best cliché of a creepy basement she'd ever seen. She could make out the shadowy form of two thugs in opposite corners of the room, one standing by the door. Above the door, she noticed two huge, antique swords, mounted on a thick plaque, hanging from a nail just below the ceiling. Just the sight of them made the place more frightening.

But when Nancy let her eyes wander further, they landed on the opposite wall from her and froze. Her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat.

A bookshelf took up the entire wall, and on every shelf, lined up like soldiers, were jars. In each jar, she recognized a single Russian Tent Spider. Without speaking, Krutin wandered over to the wall, took a jar from the shelf and then walked back to her, setting the jar on a side table.

Krutin sat, passively, still nursing his wine, in a padded chair a few feet across from her. She watched him for a moment, collecting her bearings, trying to summon energy and ignore the pain in her face and ribs and back. Krutin put his glass down beside the jar on the side table, then drew the familiar Glock she'd had at her hip for over five years. He fiddled with it, checked to see if it was loaded, and found that the magazine was full. He smiled, satisfied, and replaced it without altering it. She even heard the safety click off. His hands were boldly bare as he handled the weapon.

Krutin stood, took a a few steps closer and knelt, laying the gun at her feet.

"I can't believe you still have it. Crawford told me he'd taken it and thrown it in a river. But he was too much of a coward to admit that someone else had beat him to it. I wonder if he knew it was you."

When she followed him with her eyes, she noticed also at her feet was an old gas mask with a narrow, foot long tube trailing from the mouth.

Still kneeling in front of her, Krutin began to speak, catching her eyes in a gaze so powerful, she couldn't allow herself to blink.

"You want to kill me, don't you, Nancy?" A slow smile twisted his face. "You want use that gun to shoot me through the heart, to watch me die just as you watched your fiance die."

Her eyes narrowed; her bound hands curled into tight fists.

"Answer me!"

"Yes." Her voice was soft, steely. "Yes, I want to kill you. I want to kill you because that's what you deserve for kill Ned and all the others you've murdered."

He laughed. "Beautiful! And why should the task fall to you, love? Why not trust your precious FBI, your beloved court system to bring me to justice?"

Nancy bit her lip, refusing to answer.

"Because the faultless Bureau can't try me for the boy because they'd have to admit failure. And they won't. How can you stand it, Clarice? To know that I live so their reputation does too?"

"I fight to serve my country, to protect people from scum like you. I don't ask questions."

He leaned in closer to her, holding himself up by the seat of her chair and leaning in close to her face.

"Oh, but you do, Nancy. You ask yourself every day why they didn't stop me in Pittsburgh, why they didn't catch me and arrest me for killing your lover, why his life was less important than mine, why appearance is more important than justice, why no one has come for you tonight. You're best at asking questions and finding answers, but I think you know these answers, but keep on searching until you find the ones you want. But you can't search for what is already found, Clarice.

"You know the FBI is filled with crooks colder than I. It's time now to do what your heart commands: abandon them."

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she realized what he was asking.

"Join me."

She dared a glance toward the clock.

**9:45 pm**

Joe watched as the latest resident shut their door soundly.

"That's the third person to report sounds of gunshots. What more do we need?" Frank asked desperately.

"Frank, this is Los Angeles," Gates reminded him. "Everyone says they heard gunshots, even out here. We need evidence."

One of their LAPD escorts snapped his flip phone shut. "That was Mike. His informant didn't show."

Feeling just as antsy as Frank, Joe crossed his arms tightly, trying to hold himself together. "How have the other teams succeeded? Anything suspicious at the other three locations?"

"Krutin's car was found at his beach house. But both it and the house were empty. Probably a red herring." The other detective answered with frustration. "However, the team going to the favorite gangster bar used the same highway as we did. They happened to find Drew's phone on the side of the road."

"What about the tips? Any from this neighborhood?" Frank persisted desperately.

"No reliab--" the detective was interrupted by his phone. He answered, giving one word answers, then quickly hung up. "Check that. A tip came in saying that a tall, dark haired man was seen carrying a sleeping woman with short, brown hair and glasses into the Frozen Lotus. I'm calling for backup and a bus just in case those gunshot reports were legit. We're going in."

They all began to run across the street and got to the gate of the estate. It was locked.

"Frank?"

Joe lost sight of his brother.

He was back in their sedan. The engine revved suddenly as Frank backed up into a yard haltingly, then floored it into the gate, forcing it to snap open.

Frank jumped out of the car and started running down the long sidewalk toward the mansion, the rest of the team on his heels.

**10:00 pm**

"Never," Nancy snarled, spitting in Krutin's face this time, pulling viciously against her bonds.

His smile vanished and a frightening glare shot into his eyes as he wiped his face with his coat sleeve, standing.

"I expected that might be your initial response. But I know you will see the benefits I'm offering soon enough." He picked up the gas mask and looked at it.

"Back in my motherland, the police use this very device to force confessions from innocent men and women of ages. They called it _slonik, _or _elephant_, torture. Ironic, don't you think, that now I use it on you?" He threw his head back and laughed.

Despite her squirming, he forced the mask over her face.

"Take a deep breath, dear Nancy, and make the most of it."

He let his hand run down the side of her head, through her hair, down her neck and breasts, sighing almost wistfully as he stepped back. He waved one of the thugs over.

Then with Krutin laughing across the room, the faceless man squeezed the air tube shut.

Her air supply was gone. And the clock read 10:10. Nancy began to panic. She tried to breathe shallowly to conserve the last air as she pulled the tiny lever on her watch and pressed the panic button over and over, eyes locking on the gun at her feet.

**10:10 pm.**

As they stopped at on the porch, hearing sirens in the distance. Suddenly, a loud alarm went off on the radios holstered on Ray and Go-Go's belts.

"That's Drew's panic button!" Gates hissed, drawing his weapon after silencing the radio.

A minute later, Ray's phone vibrated. She whispered, "Where is she?" paused, then slapped it shut. "She's here!"

Before she'd let the words go, Frank kicked the door in and ran in gun first, Joe hot on his heels.

XXX

Terrified and blinded by her tears, Nancy struggled against her bonds desperately, futilely trying to suck in air when there was none. Her chest felt as if it would burst and the panic was wild in her throat. She thrashed in the chair, fighting the spinning of the room and the slow narrowing of her vision.

_Oh, Ned, I'm sorry... about us, about Krutin..._

_...about Frank... I'm sorry I couldn't deny it..._

Just as a sudden pang shot through her chest, a loud crash sounded from the other side of the room.

X

When Frank kicked the door in, Joe surged through, immediately focusing on the man holding the tube shut on the gas mask over Nancy's head despite her wild thrashing and panicked whimpering.

Joe Hardy hurled himself at the man, sending them both crashing to the floor. As soon, as they landed, Joe began to throw punches with a feral howl.

"NANCY!"

Frantic, Frank ran to Nancy's side and jerked the mask from her face, rejoicing in the sound of her free breaths. He flicked open a pocket knife and sliced through the duct tape and the rope around her wrists. But something was wrong; she doubled over immediately, clutching her chest and breathing in shallow, uneven gasps.

_Is she hyperventilating?_

"Breathe, Nancy, please! Just _breathe_!"

Suddenly, a hard body crushed into him, sending his knife flying and forcing him into a flurry of kicks and punches.

X

_I can't breathe, I still can't breathe!_

Nancy could feel her heart stumbling rapidly and failing in her chest, and she doubled over.

Suddenly, she saw it. It was still there, right between her feet. Her gun. It rested there, patiently, between her trapped ankles.

She felt light-headed and dizzy but she scooped the gun up anyway. It was welcome in her hands. Nancy stood, gripping the weapon and wobbling as she tried to balanced on her ankles, still taped to the chair legs.

There he was. Arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, watching. Smiling.

Her world began to dim; she didn't have long.

She raised the gun with her right arm, cupping the grip with her left, ignoring the ache in her bruised muscles and the sharp pains in her chest as she struggled for air. Her erratic breaths made her aim waver, but she knew she could time it. Krutin didn't move.

Even as her consciousness began to fail, Nancy knew firing this shot would destroy her if she lived. He wasn't running; he wasn't fighting. But the vision of Ned's bleeding chest and the scent of his graveside and Krutin's still, arrogant stance were all she knew in that moment.

_I'm already destroyed. I have been for years. I abandoned everyone I loved to chase a criminal._

She took aim, fighting to steady her breaths and drag strengths from her depths. She had nothing more to lose, and she'd probably die anyway. Her heart...

Suddenly, a voice cut in, shooting light through darkness narrowing around Krutin's body, waiting expectantly underneath his old, beautiful swords.

"**Nancy, no!**"

_Frank. Strong, steady, Frank Hardy. I won't let Krutin kill you, too._

An awful, ripping pain seared through her chest and wracked her body for a moment.

Time was up. So, Nancy chose.

She fired. Then, an instant later, she felt her breath stop, felt her eyes roll backwards, her knees buckle. She didn't even feel the impact of her fall, only the soft caress of the dark.

X

Frank watched from underneath his attacker with horror as Nancy's arm jerked from the recoil. His terrified eyes followed the shot, waiting to see Krutin fall, but instead, the antique swords over the mob boss's head wobbled, then fell from the wall and crashed into his head, and Vladislav Krutin dropped like a rag doll into unconsciousness.

_She didn't kill him._

Before he could process everything that meant, she collapsed. A pop sounded as her ankles protested the pull of her weight against the tape binding them to the chair legs, and then the chair fell on top of her, and she was still.

"_**NANCY!"**_


	15. The Next Day

To Protect and Serve

_We're close to the end folks. I confess that writing last chapter was an incredibly difficult and emotional process for me. Even though Vladislav Krutin is my own creation, he definitely scares me, and I fear for Nancy even as I begin to write this chapter. Hold on, everyone._ _It's not over yet._

**_A special thanks to my lovely betas... they know who they are. ;-)_**

_-rosa_

**The Next Day**

_Last chapter..._

"**Nancy, no!**"

_Frank. Strong, steady, Frank Hardy. I won't let Krutin kill you, too._

An awful, ripping pain seared through her chest and wracked her body for a moment.

Time was up. So, Nancy chose.

She fired. Then, an instant later, she felt her breath stop, felt her eyes roll backwards, her knees buckle. She didn't even feel the impact of her fall, only the soft caress of the dark.

X

Frank watched from underneath his attacker with horror as Nancy's arm jerked from the recoil. His terrified eyes followed the shot, waiting to see Krutin fall, but instead, the antique swords over the mob boss's head wobbled, then fell from the wall and crashed into his head, and Vladislav Krutin dropped like a rag doll into unconsciousness.

_She didn't kill him._

Before he could process everything that meant, she collapsed. A pop sounded as her ankles protested the pull of her weight against the tape binding them to the chair legs, and then the chair fell on top of her, and she was still.

"_**NANCY!"**_

With inhuman strength, Frank threw his attacker off of him and into a wall. The man moaned and didn't get up.

Pounding footsteps and shouts fell on Frank's deaf ears as he scrambled to Nancy's side, snagging his knife from the floor. Gasping her name, he sliced the tape around her ankles, hurled the chair off of her, and gently rolled her onto her back.

She was covered in bruises; someone had beat the hell out of her before strapping the mask to her head. Rage threatened to billow, but Frank swallowed it.

"The basement!" Joe yelled breathlessly to the unseen cavalry, throwing another punch at his very persistent opponent. Voices and rapid steps came closer. "We need an AED or a bus, now!"

The chaos around Frank dissolved into silence as he blocked out everything but Nancy. Police and EMT training all screamed at him: the suffocation had triggered cardiac arrest. She wasn't breathing and her face, eerily peaceful, seemed tinted blue.

He put his ear against her chest even while checking her carotid artery with two shaking fingers. He couldn't detect a pulse, but he'd put money on fibrillation. He needed an AED and an ambulance.

"Not now, Nancy!" he grunted, sucking in air, squeezing her lips open, and forcing his breath into her lungs, watching her chest rise. Hot tears sprung the second time their lips met, blurring his vision, but he still saw her chest rise. He blinked them back determinedly and began chest compressions.

When he hit 15, he gave two more breaths, and while he was pumping her chest the second round, Ray dropped to her knees next to them, setting an AED next to him. "Don't stop CPR until I tell you," she bit out. "I work around you."

She unpacked the device with amazing speed.

"I'm cutting her shirt and bra; you keep going until I say clear," Ray ordered tersely. "How long?"

Frank gave Nancy two more breaths, then explained while giving compressions. "Cardiac arrest first set in about two minutes ago. She was being suffocated with the gas mask, but when it was removed, her breathing was irregular, and she was clutching her chest. About a minute later, she collapsed, and stopped breathing, no pulse. That was about half a minute ago!" He recited it all while looking away from Nancy's bare chest, ridiculously compelled even in these circumstances to respect Nancy's modesty.

Ray attached the pads to Nancy's chest as he recited these events. The minute he'd finished, she turned, checked the machine, then yelled, "CLEAR!"

Frank made sure he wasn't touching Nancy for a few seconds. "AED is analyzing!"

Reinforcements swarmed into the basement like hornets. People pulled Joe's attacker off of him and cuffed him. Frank watched for moment as four men hauled the antique swords off of Krutin. He didn't move. The other thug was still groaning and holding his arm, but they cuffed him too.

"AED detects ventricle fibrillation. Delivering shock. Stand back!"

"Krutin's out cold but he's alive," someone yelled. "Where are those paramedics?!"

"No response," Ray bit out tersely. "Frank, give her five more rounds of CPR; don't take off the pads. In two minutes, we analyze again."

Frank turned, focusing on Nancy's face, and knelt beside her, putting his hands softly around her cheeks, gently pressing her lips apart and then breathing for her twice more, ignoring the tears and the fury and the collapsed murderer in the corner. When his breath was spent, he rocked back, burying his face in his hands. Her lips were cold, clammy. He pounded her chest 15 times, repeating the cycle until Ray yelled, "Clear!"

"Reanalyzing."

Frank heard Joe grunt as he plopped sloppily on the floor next to him. "Trust her, bro," he murmured. Frank felt a strong hand drop onto his shoulder.

"Ambulance just drove up!"

"Delivering shock." Ray reported through her teeth.

A soft thud reached Frank's ears as Nancy's body hit the ground.

"We got a heartbeat. We got a heartbeat!"

Frank whirled, locking eyes with Ray. "Still not breathing," she answered. "Frank, give her two more breaths."

Swallowing his emotions and keeping his eyes above Nancy's neck, Frank obeyed, suddenly recalling his dream, where the instant their lips had touched, she'd simply vanished into a haze of pain and darkness...

She breathed.

He didn't believe it at first. But the sudden gaspy, desperate sound was repeated again and then again, and he wanted to cheer, yell, dance, but all he could do was hold onto her hands and watch her breathe and try not to fall apart.

"She's breathing! Nancy's breathing!"

Maybe it was his own voice; maybe Joe's. He wasn't sure. Frank was focused on Nancy. Her breaths were soft and shallow, almost like wheezing. How he wanted to see her eyes open!

Ray didn't share his elation. "She's going into shock from massive physical trauma. Where the hell are those—,"

At this time, paramedics interrupted, bursting through the door, initially ignoring Krutin outright and rushing over to Nancy's side. Medical information spewed from Ray's mouth as they took Nancy's vitals. She still didn't come to, even as they eased a backboard under her and then strapped her down to a stretcher. One paramedic was kind enough to throw a sheet over her chest as they hurried out.

"Clear the stairs!" someone shouted as the paramedics began the perilous task of safely carrying Nancy up to the main floor. Frank followed them to the landing, then turned back and locked eyes with his brother.

Joe nodded, smiled with weary encouragement. "Go," he mouthed. "Go with her."

Frank turned and chased the medical team into the ambulance without a word to anyone.

Joe watched the ambulance carrying his lovesick brother ride off, sirens blaring and lights flashing with a bit of exhausted and relieved amusement, mostly to deflect the descent of bitter anxiety for Nancy. When its sirens were out of earshot, he finally turned and returned to the mansion, making his way back down to the basement where Krutin lay and a mob of Agents and officers were swarming.

Krutin's vitals were being monitored, but he'd really only suffered a nasty bump on the head. Mostly, they were just making sure he didn't wake up and walk away. His hands were cuffed behind his back and shackles were fastened securely around his ankles. Another ambulance from the prison ward was on its way to the Frozen Lotus to take care of him.

Joe took a seat in the corner in the room, making himself available for the several different authorities would want to take a statement from him. His suddenly exhausted mind was whirling sluggishly. Nancy's shot was either a fortunate miss that saved her future... or a very deftly aimed way of making sure Krutin couldn't get away. He wasn't sure which, honestly. Had she decided in those last moments not to kill him? Or had her desperate gasps for air thrown of her deadly aim? Joe simply wasn't sure.

Joe took his cellphone from his belt and began to dial from memory. As it was ringing, he noticed several of Nancy's agents approaching him and a handful of other officers, but he held up a hand for a brief respite, waiting for his call to be answered.

"Mr. Drew? It's Joe Hardy. Nancy is alive."

X

When Nancy vanished into intensive care, Frank was left alone in the waiting room, face buried in his palms. But he wasn't alone for long.

"Coffee, Hardy. Take it. You look like shit."

Frank glanced up; Max Yuran sat down next to him, holding a Styrofoam cup.

"Thanks." Frank sipped the drink listlessly, not caring that it was crappy or that it burned his tongue. The white walls of the waiting room threatened to close in.

"And here: some ice for your jaw."

Frank looked blearily surprised as he took the icepack. "I'm hurt?"

"Your jaw is swollen and there's a bruise the size of a big fist. _Da,_ you are hurt." Max answered, slightly amused. But his eyes turned serious as his gaze wandered over to the door to the ICU.

"How bad?"

Frank sat back, sighing. "Before they put her through the slonik torture, they beat the crap out of her. She may have to have surgery for internal injuries and broken bones that I don't even know about. On top of that, add shock, effects from left-over drugs in her system, and extensive oxygen deprivation."

"Medical shit that I don't care about. Drew can handle that stuff. Did they rape her?"

Frank let his eyes close in gratitude for a moment, feeling the chill of instinctive fury crawling up his back at the mention of the word _rape_. "No."

"Возблагодарите Бога... Thank _God._" Max studied Frank for a moment. "They found three dead men in a room that looked like it'd been hit by Katrina. One shot each, fatal each time. Looks like a .38; Drew's jacket was in the room. We don't why, but it looks like Krutin killed them after they beat the shit out of her. They didn't rape her. But something they did set Krutin off."

Frank closed his eyes, cursing his absence. He really didn't care which Russian thugs Krutin had killed or why, but he sensed Max was releasing his own anxiety, so Frank let the man talk without interrupting.

"Ok. They put a hurting on her and tried to suffocate her. Drew's put up with these things before and come out." Max paused for a moment, then squared his jaw and took out a tape recorder. "Tell me everything, Frank. I'll record it and you'll only have to do it once."

Frank glanced at the tape recorder skeptically. "You think the FBI and the NYPD won't want their own statement from me?"

"This will stick. I swear. I'll make sure no one tries to take you out of here unless she's going too."

Frank sat back slowly, looking at Max as if seeing him for the first time. In his eyes was the clear hue of empathy and some kind of deeper understanding. "What did Nancy tell you, Captain? About me?"

Max smiled, and the expression gradually took over the scruffy and graying facial hair, the premature wrinkles and the dark circles underscoring his eyes until his dusky irises twinkled.

"Partners are like blood, pal. You of all people should know this. Come on; the quicker we do this, the sooner its over."

Frank nodded hesitantly, accepting the vague answer rather reluctantly. But it was what he got. So, Frank sat up straight, set his jaw, and slid into cop mode.

Max spoke into the tape recorder first, giving his name, shield number, and the location, date, and time. Then, he handed the recorder to Frank.

"Frank Hardy, NYPD."

Frank launched into the narrative with excruciating and emotionless detail without faltering; that is, until he began to tell about discovering Nancy in the basement.

"There were six of us, and Nancy had just hit her panic button, so we didn't wait for the back up. We knew they were close. The six of us split up. Joe and I went left, and we found the stairs to the basement. The door was closed, but we here muffled voices and the sounds of a struggle. My brother kicked the door in, and we saw four people in the room. Agent Drew was in the middle, bound to a chair. An old gas mask was over her head, and a man was holding the tube shut. She was fighting wildly.

"Another man stood in the corner, watching. Krutin was on the opposite end of the room by the shelf full of jars, watching. Mounted antique swords hung on the wall above his head. Joe immediately tackled the man holding the tube on the gas mask shut. I ran over, holstering my weapon, and yanked her mask off, then used a pocket knife to cut the ropes on her wrist and the duct tape around her abdomen. I noticed her gun was sitting between her ankles, which were also taped to the chair.

"Instead of taking deep breaths, Agent Drew doubled over, clutching her chest and gasping shallowly and unevenly. At that moment, Krutin's other man attacked me, before I could cut the tape on her ankles.

"While I was trying to subdue him, I saw Agent Drew lean over and grab the gun. She stood up, shaky and still breathing erratically. Krutin was still standing in the same place, watching her and smiling. I punched the guy on top of me, but he barely winced. I could still see Agent Drew out of the corner of my eye. She raised the gun with both hands, aiming at Krutin.

"I yelled, 'Nancy, no!' even while fighting off the other man. She paused, but didn't turn around. After a spasm in her chest, she steadied herself, aimed, and fired."

Captain Max Yuran was watching Frank intently now; his knuckles were white on the arms of his chair.

"But she didn't shoot Krutin. Instead, the mounted swords above him fell from the wall, landing on Krutin's head and knocking him out. When I left for the hospital, he was in stable condition. But right after firing, Agent Drew collapsed. I threw my attacker off of me and into the wall, and he didn't get back up. I went to check on Agent Drew, suspecting that near-asphyxiation from the gas mask had sent her into cardiac arrest, and that her heart had finally stopped. I was right. As I began CPR, I heard the rest of our team and the backup approaching. Joe yelled our location and for an AED as he continued to hold off the only other Russian left standing.

"Back up arrived while I was attempting to resuscitate Agent Drew. One Agent on Drew's team, Ray Matthews, hooked up an AED to Nancy's chest while I continued CPR. Ray is a psychiatrist and generally carries emergency medical supplies in her sedan. The ambulance hadn't arrived so it was good she'd been there. You'd never know she'd been shot."

Frank paused, suddenly exhausted from retelling the story, and took a few deep breaths and readjusted the icepack in his hands before reapplying it to his jaw. "The situation was now in hand; the AED revived Nancy, Krutin and his thugs were in custody. I left the scene to come with Drew in the ambulance, and that's where it ends."

Max shut off the tape recorder, locking eyes with Frank relentlessly.

"Do you think she missed? A spasm in her heart threw off her aim, and she missed her kill shot?" the Captain asked, very quietly.

Frank stared straight ahead. "I don't know," he whispered, curling his hands into tight fights, suddenly narrowing his eyes dangerously. "But I do know that despite how much I hate that man, I'm actually glad he's alive so that Nancy doesn't go down for it. But now that he's alive, I hope he suffers every day until they put the needle in his arm."

Max nodded grimly. "You're not alone." Then he laughed mirthlessly. "Good thing I shut the tape recorder off, huh?"

Frank didn't answer.

Max still looked disturbed. Finally, he began to speak again, much quieter this time. "Why do you think they were putting the _slonik_ on her? Usually that's a technique used not to kill but to coerce. They weren't trying to kill her when you intervened, but Krutin's hired hand probably didn't realize she was going into cardiac arrest. Odds are, they planned to _nearly _suffocate her, then, at the last minute, stop and try to coerce her into something. The cycle would have continued until she agreed or until she died. The question is... what could he have wanted from her?"

Frank shut his eyes. "I don't know. There's only one way to find out. We wait."

X

Another hour passed with no word from Nancy's physicians on her condition or the extent of her injuries. Joe arrived soon after the hour mark, looking haggard, worried, and annoyed.

"No word?" he asked immediately, recognizing the blank despondence in the air between Max and Frank.

"No word," Max repeated dully, slapping the chair next time. "Take a load off, Hardy. I'm sure you've been through hell trying to get off the scene."

"No kidding." Joe slouched in his chair, stretching his muscles. "Frank, our folks and Carson Drew are on their separate ways here. Mr. Drew's flight lands in two hours; Mom and Dad won't get here until tomorrow." Joe took a deep breath. "The FBI hasn't cleared them to release information yet, so in Bayport, we're still dead."

Frank blinked. That time seemed so far away, the problem seemed insignificant. "I'm sure Krutin will spill everything. We were never in any danger, because we were never a threat to him. He knew who we were for weeks until he staged trying to murder us. The news will get out soon enough." Frank sighed roughly. "All that work we did, the months investigating him, following the drug trail, weeks undercover... what did it come to?" He looked around, throwing a hand out to motion to the waiting room. "This. Nancy almost died before my eyes."

Joe felt a lump settle in the base of his throat. He took a deep breath, feeling Frank's every word down to his toes. "What if we didn't go back to the NYPD? What if Nancy didn't go back to the FBI? We could go private, just like Dad. Our own agency, just like we've always talked about."

Max sat up, eyes brightening. "I couldn't get Drew to quit. If you guys could get her out of the Bureau, I'd sleep so much better at night."

Frank's expression lit for a moment as he considered the possibility, but soon, his pesky rational nature woke up. "If she did resign from the FBI, I doubt she'd move to New York; she'd go back to River Heights, or at least Chicago, to be near her father."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Don't rain on the parade just yet, big brother. Let's forget the details, forget the planning, and the rationale. In fact, let's help Nancy recover from this ordeal before we make any plans. We're not going back to work any time soon, and neither is she. We weren't there for her four years ago when Ned died; we'll be here for her now."

"Is there a Frank Hardy here?"

Frank popped out of his chair like a jack-in-the-box, startling the doctor, a petite middle-aged woman with graying hair. She looked more like a librarian than a doctor. "Yes, I'm here. I'm not her next of kin, but her father is on his way. How is Nancy?"

"Detective Hardy, I'm Dr. McGinty. When you brought Agent Drew here three hours ago, she was in a state of medical shock from the massive physical trauma and from the cardiac arrest. Your CPR and the AED saved her life, but she was certainly not out of danger. We were able give her several units of blood, IV fluids, and get her body temperature up in order to combat the shock. She should come out of it within the hour. We also had to cast a broken wrist, stitch a gash in her back, reset a dislocated ankle, and bind her ribs, two of which were fractured--"

"From the CPR?" Frank interrupted, eyes wide.

"I don't think so. From the looks of the bruising, these injuries have been present for a number of hours. I'd say someone kicked her hard enough to crack her ribs. Detective, the CPR saved her life. Remember that. Anyway, upon closer examination, we could find no evidence of any internal injuries; her bodily organs all seemed to be intact. Also, from what you have told me, I don't believe that she will suffer any neurological damage from oxygen deprivation, and she shows no signs of brain injury.

"Your immediate initiation of CPR kept her blood flowing and kept oxygen in her system, and the quick arrival of the AED sealed it. Detective Hardy, I think that after several days of recovery, Agent Drew will have a few broken bones, a nice shiner on her eye, and plenty of sore muscles, but I think she will recover without issue. If anything, she might not remember details of the ordeal. She'll need to stay several days for observation."

Frank felt like his tense muscles were deflating as the doctor continued to speak. He interrupted again. "Can I see her?"

A smidgen of sympathy snuck into Dr. McGinty's bright green eyes. "Detective, she won't wake up for an hour at least. We gave her general anesthesia when we reset her ankle."

"I don't care. I don't need for her to be awake. I just need to hear her breathe. Please."

Realization dawned in the doctor's expression. She smiled. "Okay. I advise you to go in one at a time until her condition stabilizes. And until she is moved from the ICU, you will have to wear scrubs and gloves while in her room."

"Fine. Thank you."

Frank turned around facing the two other men, a silent question in his eyes. "Go ahead, Hardy," Max said with a grin.

"Yeah, bro. We'll wait."

Frank smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, guys. I'll keep it short so you can see her too."

X

A few moments later, Frank was sterilized and in scrubs, standing over Nancy, longing to trace the curve of her jawline, longing to see her eyes open, longing to apologize for not being there when Ned died, for not being there when the gas mask was put over her head, for indirectly putting her in the hospital bed, longing to kiss her without his mind being filled with fears of her death...

He listened. Her breaths were constant now, deep and regular. A heart monitor recorded her heart's beat: strong, steady, resilient. One lovely eye was black and blue, one delicate wrist lay in cast, still at her side. But her expression was peaceful, even pleasant.

"Nancy... I don't know if you can here me... but I want you to know that I'm here, beside you. And I'm not leaving. I'm with you now, till the end, from this point forward. I've missed you, thought of you for ten years, and now, its only taken two weeks for me to realize that I don't want to lose another day. I don't care what happens, I'll never leave you alone again. Nancy, I--"

He opened his mouth to continue, but the words caught in his throat. He paused, took a deep breath, and swallowed them. They could wait. For now.

Until the right time, he would stand by her side, listen to her and watch over her until her heart was healed. And then, maybe then...

A knock on the door shattered his reverie. He jumped, startled, then glanced at Nancy again. She continued to sleep in peace.

"I'll be back, Nancy. I promise," he whispered, then turned to open the door.

When he stepped out, Joe put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Give her time, Frank," he urged with confidence and hope. "By the way, Carson is here. Max and I filled him in, and he wants some time alone with her."

Frank let out a relieved breath. When he spoke, his voice was strong. "Good. I'm glad he's here. I'll go talk to him for a minute."

Frank breezed from the room, head in the air, steps sure. Joe watched his brother leave, then turned his gaze to Nancy. Through the glass, he could see the extent of her injuries, and they made his breath catch. But he could also see her strong heartbeat, could see her chest rise and fall with regularity, and even made out the comfortable relaxation of her countenance.

Physically, she had a few weeks of recovery ahead. Emotionally, she was in for the long haul. But this time, Joe was determined to make one important change. This time, she wouldn't face it without a Hardy on each side.

Joe lifted a hand to the glass, saluting Nancy and smiling.

XXX

_One or two chapters left to come. Thanks for reading, everyone._

_-rosa_


	16. Tomorrow

To Protect and Serve

_So many loose ends to tie up! Thank you all for your feedback last chapter. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, which will be most likely be the last. I might close everything out with a short epilogue after this._

_I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, whether you enjoyed the piece or not. I appreciate the time you took to give me your opinion, and I appreciate all the encouragement I've received over the past year._

_I hope you enjoy these last few updates, my friends, and as always,_

_God bless._

_-rosa_

**Chapter 16: Tomorrow**

Nancy stirred slowly from a pleasant sleep, gradually becoming aware of a sharp ache in her ankle, throbbing in her wrist, and a very distinct soreness in her ribs, all slightly more muted than she expected.

That wasn't quite true. She hadn't really expected to feel anything again at all. This turn of events was definitely favorable. She took a deep breath through her nose. It was the distinct smell of a hospital-- sickly sterile, but again, she would offer no complaint.

Climbing further into awareness, she felt her uninjured hand encased by two warm sets of fingers in latex gloves.

"Frank?" she wondered groggily, faintly startled by the sound of her own voice. She didn't open her eyes.

A gentle chuckle reached her ears. "Not quite, my dear."

At this, her eyes snapped open. "Dad!" She shut them again; the light sent a sudden bolt of pain through her head. After a moment, she eased them open again.

Yes, there he sat at the head of her bed, holding her hand, smiling; the expression brought light to his eyes and youth to his face. He was in scrubs from head to toe, plus the gloves. Nancy wearily assumed that she was in the ICU then. She grinned crookedly and lifted her arms towards him as best she could, surprised by the weight of the cast on one wrist. Her father's smile widened; he leaned over, wrapping his arms around her, carefully, with so much contained fervor.

Though Carson had almost 30 years of practice with his child, every time he saw her in a hospital bed hit harder than the last. He tried not to shudder while her bruised body was in his arms. He could feel her exhaustion.

When he finally pulled away, Carson's smiling eyes glistened, but his voice was strong.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

Nancy gave a lopsided smile, being careful of her split lip. The pain medication was making her a bit loopy, but he knew she was still very much herself at the moment. "Like some Russians beat the crap out of me, then tried to suffocate me. But other than that, I feel fine, Dad!"

Her tired smile was so bright that Carson couldn't help a laugh. After a light moment, his eyes turned serious.

"How much do you remember, Nancy?"

She looked away. "More than I care to."

Carson sighed. "I just spoke with Frank, Nancy. The suffocation sent you into cardiac arrest, and you went into fibrillation and collapsed just after you fired your gun. You stopped breathing, and Frank gave you CPR for several minutes until one of your Agents arrived with an AED and revived you." His voice shook just slightly. "You cut it much too close for my comfort this time, darling."

Nancy closed her eyes for so long an instant that Carson wondered if she dozed. But she opened them again, her eyes searching her father's.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I was aiming?"

Her father smiled broadly, leaning in closer and tightening his hold on her unmarred hand. His voice was a low murmur. "I don't care if you were aiming right between his eyes, Nancy. I'm just glad you're here to tell me about it."

Carson drew her into his arms again, feeling her tremble. He whispered now, directly into her ear, gently stroking her shoulder as he spoke.

"I'm your lawyer. You can tell me anything you like, and I will keep it. I have kept for years your story from Pittsburgh. But I'm first your father, and I say that dramatic confessions of intent or lack thereof can wait until you are no longer in the Intensive Care Unit, darling."

He pulled away, holding her softly at arms length. "Besides, after talking with Frank Hardy, I think I know exactly where you were aiming."

Her tears fell freely now, but her shaky smile remained.

XXX

Joe gently kicked the door leading into the waiting open, waltzing in with renewed confidence, but he stopped in his tracks.

The first surprise was that his brother, Detective Frank Hardy, was actually dozing in a chair. It spoke volumes about his outlook that Frank would actually let go for a while and sleep. Joe smiled broadly at that.

Second, he noticed that the waiting room's occupancy had tripled, and the whole crowd was being careful to congregate a safe distance away from Frank to afford him some semblance of rest. As the scene at the Frozen Lotus had been secured, more and more people were showing up at the hospital to check on Nancy. He counted two of Nancy's six Agents already in the crowd: Ray and Pop. Ray looked like she was finally relaxing. After finishing her Krutin's psychological profile, which she'd been working on for years, she'd taken a bullet and then directed a high-stress resuscitation on Nancy in a matter of hours.

Reed Shuler was living up to his call name; he looked like he'd aged ten years in the past few days.

However, both of the older Agents were smiling.

But Joe could do little more than wave to them as his focus was immediately drawn to Captain Max Yuran, who stood in a corner of the waiting room talking with a knock-out blond. She was dressed impeccably, but her make-up was slightly displaced by a few stray tears. But as she listened to Max, she was calm and intent. Just like every other time they'd met, Joe forgot his surroundings and burrowed through the crowd to her side.

"Bess Marvin?"

She whirled, blond hair swishing around her shoulders. When she met his eyes, Max was instantly forgotten. Her eyes widened, her mouth parted. Her eyes were red, but her mascara was barely disturbed.

"_Joe Hardy?!_"

Joe grinned. He instinctively braced himself. Ten years or not, Bess launched herself into his arms and held on for dear life. Max's eyebrows shot up with sly amusement.

"I see you got this covered, Hardy," he said through a good-natured smirk. He grinned, gave a thumbs-up, and sauntered off. Joe's grin widened. He pulled away, holding Bess at arm's length.

"Bess! It's great to see you! What are you doing here?"

She relinquished some of his shirt to scrub at her eyes, a small smile peaking out from beneath her obvious distress. "I'm in LA filming for my soap opera. I saw the news, and Mr. Drew called me, and, oh, God, Joe! How is Nancy? What happened?! And what are _you_ doing here?!"

Joe blinked at the rapid fire questions, then finally shrugged an arm over her shoulders. "Nancy's going to make it," he reassured her, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. Frank was still sleeping. "Mr. Drew is with her now, in the ICU. Come on, let's find somewhere quiet, and I'll tell you what I can."

Even after ten long years, Joe felt Bess lean just slightly into his shoulder as they walked away.

XXX

"Frank."

The deep, gentle voice seemed muffled slightly. Frank groaned, clenching his eyes closed tighter as the pleasant fog of sleep began to rapidly clear.

"Wake up, son. We're migrating."

Finally resigned, Frank opened his eyes, blinking at the blurry face until his vision cleared. Mr. Drew was leaning over him, touching his shoulder. The white washed walls of the ICU waiting room were stark against Mr. Drew's dark blue coat.

"How's Nancy?" Frank asked immediately as he stretched. The room was slowly emptying of people. He didn't see his brother anywhere.

"Improving by the minute. She's come out of shock and stabilized over the past hours, and they're moving her out of the ICU to a regular room. She's much more alert than before, which is both a blessing and a curse. She's glad not to be groggy, but much more aware of her injuries. Captain Yuran is with her now."

Carson looked years younger when he smiled; the expression suited him. Despite the dark circles and crow's feet, Mr. Drew looked genuinely cheery instead of anxious as he'd been when he arrived. Obviously, Nancy's condition must be getting better; if not, Carson wouldn't have left her side, and certainly wouldn't be smiling so much.

Frank sat up, grinning. "Good. They need to have a long talk, and I'm sure Max'll hash it out with her. How long have I been out?"

"The better part of two hours. It is now about six in the morning," Carson supplied helpfully, offering Frank a hand out of the chair, then passing him a cup of coffee. "By the way, you slept through Bess Marvin's arrival."

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "Bess is here?!" He smiled as he thought of her. She was always fun to be around, even if she did seem to attract trouble just as much as Nancy. "When did she fly in?"

"She didn't. She was already in LA, filming for her soap opera. She saw Nancy's face on the news and showed up here a couple hours ago on the brink of hysteria. Your brother graciously offered to take her into a quiet room and give her the civilian version of the story." Carson's smile widened. "They haven't come back yet."

Frank laughed into his coffee, nearly doing a spit-take all over Carson, who merely watched with amusement. "That's Joe for you. The Hardy charm strikes again!"

Carson quirked an eyebrow in Frank's direction as they made their way to the elevators. "Speaking of the Hardy charm... Frank Hardy, what are you up to? When my daughter woke up and realized that someone was holding her hand, she immediately assumed it was you."

Frank looked away sheepishly, stabbing the elevator button with his free hand and briefly burying his mouth into his coffee with the other hand. "Mr. Drew, Nancy and I have always been very close, even when we were both spoken for. For the past 10 years, we've only talked sporadically, and not at all since Pittsburgh. But I thought of her often. After spending the last two weeks in her company, I've come to realize that I don't want to miss another day with her. Right before she was captured, I asked her to deny that she loved me."

Carson's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I know, I know! It was wrong of me to do it. She had just told me what happened in Pittsburgh. But the words just appeared, and I couldn't take them back. But she couldn't. She couldn't deny it. But she told me she couldn't risk me because she lost Ned, and she didn't want to lose me."

Carson put a reassuring hand on Frank's shoulder. "She needs time, Frank. With Krutin in custody, she's so close to getting the closure she needs. You're right, you probably shouldn't have ordered a confession out of her, _Detective_—," Frank winced, but Mr. Drew was smiling, "—but sometimes, Nancy is so stubborn that you have to catch her off guard. I'm sure you will get to finish your discussion very soon."

The elevator doors opened, and the two men stepped out. Frank moved to walk on, but Carson took his arm. Frank was surprised to see that the older man's eyes were shining.

"And no matter the outcome of that discussion, I want you to know that you will always be dear to me, Frank Hardy, for saving my daughter's life. I can't ever repay you for it, but I want you to be confident of this: if she so chooses, I would be honored to see Nancy smiling at your side."

Frank's mouth opened, but he could find no words. Instead, he offered his hand and Mr. Drew shook it firmly. When his voice returned, all Frank could manage was "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Drew only smiled in returned, and they both made their way down the winding halls to Nancy's new room. When the arrived, they found the door shut, and Max Yuran seething outside of it. Nancy's small crowd of visitors was seen congregating across the hall in a family room.

"What is it?" Frank demanded instantly.

Max's answer was a low growl. "Some higher-ups from the Bureau are in there with Drew. The minute they found out she was able to receive visitors, they swooped down like vultures. Barged in while Drew and I were talking and kicked me out. Now I remember why I quit the Feds."

The three men waited rather impatiently for over an hour until the door to Nancy's room opened again.

When the door flew open, two agents walked briskly out without a word, looking angry. The three men piled in immediately, Carson at the head.

Frank's breath caught when he saw Nancy sitting up in bed. Her hair was messily tied back. Her face was bruised, she wore a cast on on wrist, and he could see the outline of a stabilizing boot on her foot, but she was grinning widely from ear to ear, and the sight sent Frank's heart soaring. She was sitting very straight and still, leaning on pillows propping her up, probably so she wouldn't aggravate her ribs. She looked over her father's shoulder and caught his eyes for a moment, then looked away.

"Nancy, what was that all about?" Carson demanded, sitting down at the chair beside her bed.

"That, gentlemen, was my former boss, the director of the Organized Crime unit of the FBI and with him, the deputy director of the Bureau. They came to check up on me."

Her gentle sarcasm was slightly muffled by her wheezing. Frank felt another wave of anger when he realized that even drawing breath caused her pain.

"What'd they _really_ want, Drew?" Max asked with a smirk, crossing his arms.

Nancy's grin widened as far as her split lip would allow. "After I gave them my statement, they censured me for recklessness and for stealing the gun from evidence. Then, they started babbling about putting me back into the WPP until the trial was over, but I refused. _Then_, they offered me a promotion. A nice, lucrative desk job at Quantico."

There was a moment of silence as the three men tried to gage her. She waited.

"Well?" Max caved first.

"I quit."

Frank blinked. _To think, I figured I would have to slowly persuade her to resign._ "You quit," he repeated, speaking to Nancy for the first time since before her door had exploded in Phoenix. The sound of his voice seemed to startle her; maybe when he was quiet, it was easier to forget his presence. But now, after those two words, her smile started to falter. She clumsily looked away.

"Yes, I quit. After Pittsburgh..." she trailed off until Carson shut the door, then she picked it up again, "...I think the only reason I stayed with the Bureau was my fixation on Krutin. Now he's in custody. Plus, I'm getting old."

Carson laughed heartily. "My dear, honestly. You're twenty-eight."

"Exactly."

A brief awkward silence ensued. Frank's gaze was intense. It was mercifully interrupted when Max's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and groaned. "Sorry, Drew, I gotta take this. Any place quiet on this hall?"

Carson smiled. "I'll show you. Be right back, honey."

The two men left the room. Max shut the door after Carson, flipping his phone shut again.

"Nice, Carson," he said appreciatively. "I knew there was a reason I kept your number in my phone all these years. That was pretty smooth."

"Nancy didn't get it from the water," Mr. Drew answered, winking, pressing the "end" button on his phone.

X

Back in Nancy's room, the tension was thick enough to bite. Frank drank in the sight of her, logging her laugh, her voice, her eyes into his memory, slowly walking over to the chair by her bed and sitting beside her.

She followed his movements with her eyes, and when he sat, she didn't look away.

Frank studied her for a moment, then bluntly announced, "You missed."

Her smile was tired. "No. I didn't."

Frank let out a relieved sigh, sinking further into the chair, even despite its discomfort. He tentatively took her hand.

"Nancy. You wanted to shoot him. You stole the gun. You were going to kill him. What changed your mind?"

"You did."

Frank blinked. His grip on her uninjured hand tightened.

Nancy took a deep breath, and finally broke her gaze into his eyes. She fixed her eyes on something Frank couldn't see. "In that moment, I was holding the gun that killed Ned, my chest felt like someone was stabbing me, and I couldn't breathe. Krutin was fighting or running; just standing there, daring me, mocking me, but I was still going to kill him. I figured I was going to die anyway, and even if I lived, that taking that shot would still kill me. But in that moment, neither bothered me. I'd hardly been living at all for the past four years, so death didn't seem like a change."

Frank leaned in closer, gripping her hand tightly. His throat closed, pained that she'd hit such a low. He encouraged her on with his eyes.

"I had a bead on him, Frank. I couldn't think of any reason not to shoot, any reason to keep on." Her eyes filled, but she blinked it back relentlessly. She actually smiled. "But then I heard your voice. You saved me, you were fighting for me. And in that second before I blacked out, I decided that if I somehow survived, I wanted to live. I could finally let go of Krutin because you wouldn't let go of me. So I shot the swords so they'd fall on him, and he couldn't get away. But he'd live. And if he lived, I could live."

Frank Hardy was stunned into silence. She'd chosen to hope, to give up her revenge, to live... for him. It was huge. He knew without a doubt that in this very moment, Nancy Drew was at her most vulnerable point.

He smiled broadly. "Nancy..." he breathed, searching for words, praying for wisdom, and adding his other hand to his grip on hers. "I want to be in your life. I practically missed a decade; I don't want to miss another day." He took a deep breath, briefly shutting his eyes. "I never should have put you on the spot like I did before the explosion. You've been through hell and back, and I just want to be with you from here on. Even if it's just as your friend, I want to always be in your life."

Nancy wrenched her hand free. Before Frank had time to be hurt, she grabbed his shirt collar, and yanked him down, hesitating for half a second before kissing him. Frank's eyes shot open in surprise, but he eagerly shut them again, gently responding to Nancy's bruised lips, resting his hands on her waist. This huge weight of uncertain expectancy was lifted off his broad shoulders.

Nancy broke the kiss, blushing prettily. Her scar was white against her flush, but she grinned. Frank smiled back, a question in his eyes.

"I'm sick of being your friend, Frank Hardy," she announced, laughing quietly, trying not to jar her ribs.

He grinned, putting his hand on her cheek and leaning in close. "Good. I don't want you to be my friend. I want you to be my girl."

The thought frightened her, deep down. She could lose him, just like she lost Ned... but that kind of outlook had only destroyed her. She smiled, feeling her cheeks grow hot. For him, she could risk anything.

"Deal."

Frank kissed her again, slower this time, letting one hand mingle with her short, cropped hair. The sound of the door opening registered somewhere in his brain, but he ignored it.

"Why do I always do this?!" came an indignant, feminine squeal.

Nancy pulled breathlessly away, eyes wide. "Bess!" She opened her arms and her lifelong friend ran towards her, hugging Nancy cautiously.

"Karma?" another voice wondered. Joe sauntered in, flashing a million-watt grin at Nancy.

"Joe!" she cried. He came over and wrapped her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. "Nancy, if you love me even a little and you want me to get to 30, please don't ever _do_ that to me again!" he ordered.

"Give it up, Hardy," came her partner's voice. Max sauntered into the room. "She attracts trouble. I learned that after our first op." She grinned at him, swatting his arm with her cast.

"I've got you beat, Max," her father said cheerfully as he entered. "I figured it out about 20 years ago when Nancy got lost in Wal-Mart after she decided to take it upon herself to help a little boy find his teddy bear."

"Hey," Nancy retorted jovially. "I found it, didn't I?"

Max glanced out the door. "Hey Drew, Pop and a bunch of other Agents are wandering around out here like poor, little lost puppies. How do you feel about pissing off the fire marshal?"

"Bring it on," she said, grinning.

Her six Agents piled in loudly, Bomb at the head, holding her laptop.

"Here's your laptop, Drew. I believe this little machine is the cause of all the trouble. We had a heck of a time getting into it, though."

Nancy smiled apologetically. "I saw Crawford's face on the camera and locked the computer right before he drugged me. Anyway, I'm glad you brought it. I can type up and email my official letter of resignation."

Andy's eyes widened. "You're quitting?" she squealed. Bomb rolled his eyes, but looped an affectionate arm around her shoulders.

"Sorry?" she offered.

"Sorry, she says," JJ repeated with a grin. "Like 'sorry' is going to make it easy to slave away for the Bureau without her."

"Yep, I find it very convenient that she's quitting after the action is over, leaving all the paper to us," Gates remarked, crossing his arms with a good-natured wink.

"Oh, lay off," Ray said, waving the arm that wasn't in a sling. "Besides, we all know Drew is getting too old to do this."

Nancy arched an eyebrow. "Careful, Ray! I've seen your record, so I know how old you are."

"True, but I'm a psychiatrist. I do the smart stuff while you young people go throwing yourselves into the fray."

Nancy smirked. "This coming from the one with GSW." Her gaze softened. "Thanks, Ray."

Pop smiled. "I'm glad you're able to put this all behind you, Nancy. It's about time you took a vacation anyway."

"A long vacation!" Frank declared, letting an arm drape over her shoulders. She leaned into his touch just slightly.

As separate conversations began to branch off in the room, Nancy surveyed the people in the room. Her agents were talking about work; whether or not Nancy would need protection during the upcoming trials—Krutin would be wanted in several states and by the Feds. Laura and Fenton Hardy were on their way, and they would surely spread the word that Frank and Joe were alive and well. Joe and Bess were already deep in conversation in a corner of the room. Her father and Max were in a casual discussion filled with grins.

Nancy glanced over her shoulder at Frank. He was focused on her. Smiling boyishly.

"What are you thinking about, Frank Hardy?"

He grinned, reached into a drawer on the side table and pulled out a box of red hair dye. "I like you as a red-head, Nan. And I'm pretty sure it's payback time."

XXX

_That's almost the end, everyone! Stay tuned for the epilogue, and then, this adventure will be complete. Thanks for sticking with me._

_rosa_


	17. Epilogue

**To Protect and Serve**

_We've reached the end, everyone. Thank you for your encouragement, your suggestions, your comments... and just for reading. Thank you. I hope you've enjoyed yourself._

_God bless._

_-rosa_

Epilogue

"Nancy, you're crazy."

Nancy passed her firearm and badge over to the desk attendant and pinned the visitor's badge onto the strap of her blue dress. Frank grudgingly followed suit, attaching the ID onto his suit's lapel. She glanced over her shoulder at him; her face glistened with make-up and her now-red hair was woven intricately on the top of her head in an delicate up-do.

"I've heard that before."

Behind them, Carson was going through the same ritual. "Apparently, it has yet to sink in," he grumbled. "I guess it would be redundant for me to state—yet again—that as your father and lawyer, I strongly advise against this?"

Nancy followed the guard, ignoring the whistles that lit the air as she passed the cells in her blue evening gown. Frank glared at every cat-caller he could identify as he trailed behind Nancy. Her ribs were completely healed, the brace she'd been wearing on her wrist had been removed for the day. She'd shed the stabilizing ankle boot weeks ago. She had healed. Almost. She would always bear Krutin's mark on her face.

"It won't do any good, Dad. I have to do this. I have to have closure."

They were lead to a room dissected by a wall of thick glass. The wall was divided into private phone stations. A tape recorder was fastened to the table at each station.

"Ok, fine. I'll give you that. We all need to know whether or not he's going to send people after you," Frank conceded. Wondering had cost him countless hours of sleep in the past months. "But why today?"

Today, Callie Shaw was getting married. Neither Frank nor Nancy was in the wedding party, but their presence was expected. Callie and her fiance would wait for them. Joe, Bess, George and Tom, Laura and Fenton Hardy... not to mention the press... would all be counting on their arrival.

"Several reasons," Nancy answered absently, watching the guard. "One. Time constraint. Two. Automatic, pleasant distraction when we're done here."

The guard disappeared into a hallway. The door shut behind him with a metallic clang. Frank's eyes were on Nancy as the guard reappeared behind the class, escorting a familiar figure. Nancy's eyes narrowed.

"Stay back," she murmured, glancing first at her father, then at Frank. "I'll do this on my own."

"We're right here, Nancy," Carson Drew said darkly. Frank was slightly startled by the cool fury in the older man's eyes.

"Yeah. Right behind you," Frank agreed in a low growl.

She nodded but didn't look back at them. Instead, she walked forward, her stiletto heals clicking on the floor. The fabric of her dress trailed behind her.

X

Nancy walked purposefully towards the station where he was waiting. She sat down, not ignorant of his appreciative gaze. She locked eyes with him for a long moment, not faltering, and finally, picked up the phone. He followed suit, smiling still. She punched the record button on the tape recorder, and waited.

"Hello, Nancy."

His greeting caught her off-guard, just for a moment. Clarice, she expected, or Agent Drew. Never Nancy.

"Vladislav," she greeted blankly, looking through the glass at his face.

"You look lovely, as always, _baboyka_. I am pleased that you have returned your hair to its lovely red."

Nancy chose not to dignify this remark. Instead, she sat still and quiet, refusing to open the conversation. After a long moment, Krutin shrugged magnanimously. "My offer still stands."

Nancy's glare threatened to crack the glass between them. "So does my answer."

Krutin smiled. "I thought so." His teeth showed, and his eyes glittered through the glass. "You have come then to ask if I might send someone else to kill you while I rot away in your lovely federal prison." He actually laughed; Nancy fought a shudder, refusing to allow any sign of fear to surface.

"You needn't fear, my dear. Our night at the Frozen Lotus taught me a pretty lesson. I cannot trust anyone else with you. Those fools would have raped you, Nancy Drew. You know that. You also know that I did not order it. I stopped them; I saved your innocence."

"I could have killed you."

"Yes."

She blinked. She'd expected a refusal, an arrogant argument.

"Yes, Nancy Drew, you could have killed me easily. But you chose not to. But you must know that no matter how captivating you are, my dear, that I would not have chosen as you did, if our positions had been reversed. But you need not worry early lines into your lovely face, _baboyka._ If I have learned anything from our interactions, it is this: no one else seems to know how to give you the respect you deserve. Every time I left you in someone else's hands, you were mistreated. Crawford nearly overdosed you with his sedatives because he feared you. My other associates nearly caused your premature death when they beat you because they feared you."

He grinned. "But I am not afraid of you. I know to give you the deference you command, even as a retired Special Agent.

"So go and live, Nancy Drew. You need not worry about a sniper hit or poisoned food from anyone under my influence. Perhaps one of your many other more impatient enemies would care to act in such a manner. But for now, you will live. Because I don't want anyone else to kill you. I want that honor."

A chill began at the base of Nancy's neck and spread down her back and into her hair. "Fortunate for me, then, that you'll never get out of prison until you die or the government kills you."

His smile widened, and his awful, toothy smile glittered in the bad lighting. "Very fortunate, my love." He laughed. "Now, go, Clarice—live for us both! I know you will still think of me when you admire your reflection."

Nancy stood, hearing her evening gown rustle at the movement. Her free hand hovered over the tape recorder's stop button. Suddenly, she heard a scrape and looked up in time to see Krutin's chair hit the safety glass, sending cracks spreading out like a web. Startled, Nancy dropped the phone and took an instinctive step backwards, locking eyes with him. She heard footsteps of guards approaching, and somewhere, Frank's shout registered in her chest.

Since she dropped the phone, she couldn't hear Vladislav Krutin's voice, but through the glass she could see his lips clearly form these words:

"Please give my regards to Miss Shaw."

Furious at the fear freezing her bones, Nancy threw the phone down, snatched the tape from the recorder with her pulse pounding in her ears, and stumbled immediately into Frank's embrace. She couldn't see it with her face buried into Frank's chest, but the elder Hardy shot Krutin a dark, withering glare. Nancy felt her father's hand on her shoulder and Frank's unrelenting grip on her hand as they left Krutin behind.

Once outside, she even smiled when her eyes met the bright sunset.

**THE END**


End file.
